


baby, look what you started

by shxrogane (minsazucar)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Safe Sane and Consensual, Semi-Public Sex, Sugar Daddy Shiro, figure skater keith, figure skating AU, god rest my soul, guess it's Explicit now, ofc it's pining shiro who do u think i am, very mild..........For now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsazucar/pseuds/shxrogane
Summary: “You okay? You looked like you could use some help,” the mystery man spoke first, offering Keith a soft smile.Keith fought to remember how to breathe.“Uh, yeah. Yeah, thanks,” he managed to choke out, before remembering his manners and extending his hand. “I’m Keith.”“Shiro,” the man replied with a smile, shaking his hand. “You’re that figure skater from America, right?” Keith was taken aback. “Yeah, how did…”“Guess you could say I’m a fan,” Shiro interrupted with a casual shrug.In which Keith is an up and coming figure skater and Shiro is someone with too much money and free time on his hands.





	1. Chapter 1

Keith stood tall, hands stretched high towards the heavens, legs crossed and visibly shaking in his skates. But he didn’t fall. _He didn’t fall_. That had been a near perfect run of his free skate. He’d never managed to skate it error free before, not even during practice. Holy shit.

The applause was deafening.

Keith was feeling the high of a perfect routine even as he fell to his knees and caught his breath. His mind was a blur of adrenaline as he entered the kiss and cry. Keith hardly registered the weight of Coran’s hand on his shoulder as they waited for his scores. The numbers flashed in front of him; he’d set a new record. It was enough to jump him all the way from fourth place and into gold.

Keith floated through the motions. Stood on the podium when he was given his medal. Smiled for the cameras. Gave out congratulatory handshakes. And all the while, his mind was completely blank, nothing but white noise filtering his senses.

He didn’t start to come back to himself until he was in the locker room, sitting on a bench in a daze. Keith finally startled out of his stupor when Allura saddled up next to him, snapping a pic to post on Instagram.

“Let me see that!”

Keith made a desperate grab for Allura’s phone, but she pranced out of his reach with a trained grace.

“Next time don’t space out.” She stuck her tongue out then smiled at her phone. “Aw, don’t worry, this is a cute picture.”

“That’s what you say every time I look like an idiot.”

She didn’t deign that with a response. Instead, she tapped away at her phone and Keith waited to hear the awful ding from his own phone, notifying him he’d been tagged in a photo.

“I hate you.”

“You love me. Now come on, we’re heading back to the hotel,” she snapped her fingers impatiently.

Keith frowned but continued unlacing his skates, sighing in relief when they were finally off. He packed them away in his duffle bag and pulled on his sneakers. He zipped his Team USA hoodie over his bedazzled torso and walked to meet Allura by the door. Before they took off, she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Congratulations on gold. I knew you had it in you.”

Allura’s voice and eyes were soft in a way that oozed pride. For the first time that night, Keith’s own smile was genuine.

 

 

Keith’s track record as a figure skater hasn’t been the best. He started skating competitively when he was 13 and made it to his first Junior Grand Prix at age 15. He’d never been a _bad_ skater, but commentators always made a fuss about his technique. Keith had a penchant for prizing athleticism over artistry. 

But hey, he wasn’t solely to blame; his coaches never really knew how to handle him. Allura had made it sound so poetic, comparing him to a vibrant flame, untempered and wild on the ice. That was just a fancy way of saying Keith was stubborn and had too much energy. No one could ever explain “artistry” in a way that made sense to him. So, he never bothered with it. Simple as that.

Then Coran had come along. Keith had been 19 and on the verge of retiring. He was going nowhere real fast, damaging his body with harder stunts and never getting rewarded for them. Coran had come along and personally asked Keith to come under his tutelage. 

He’d been hesitant, of course. It wasn’t that Keith was overly attached to his current coach or anything; Iverson was more than ready to let him go, no matter how talented he claimed Keith was. Keith didn’t make a decision until he met Allura, the other skater currently being coached by Coran.

Allura, aka the first female figure skater to land a quad jump in competition. The female figure skater that finally went that extra mile and pushed her competition into a new era. Keith had nothing but respect for her, and therefore had nothing but respect for Coran.

He packed up his bags and relocated to London the next month.

Training under Coran had been discovering a world of skating Keith never knew existed. Watching Allura skate, effortlessly combining athleticism with fine tuned delicacy, taught Keith more about artistry than six years of coaching ever had. Keith still struggled, of course, but comments and jabs at his techniques grew more and more scarce.

Now, two years later, he was _finally_ reaching his potential. Leading into the competitive season, Keith had managed to qualify for the Grand Prix again. Coran, in all his faith, allowed Keith to select his own program music. Allura, Coran, and Keith had all worked on the choreography together; a collaborative effort. And damn if it hadn’t paid off.

At 21 years old, Keith had won his first gold medal at the Trophée de France. He was poised to snag another podium position at the next cup, earning him a spot in the Grand Prix finals. Keith couldn’t wait.

No, _literally_ , he couldn’t wait. All through the plane ride from Marseilles to Tokyo, he tossed around in his seat, earning him his fair share of smacks from a fatigued Allura. The flight was a solid 13 hours, and Keith managed to maybe nap through only four of those hours. Even so, he was restless once they finally landed. 

The sights of the city kept him occupied enough in the cab to the hotel. The lights and buildings blurring in the mirror were barely scratching the itch under his skin though.

Once they checked into the hotel and dumped their bags, Keith pulled on his trusty, red leather jacket and dipped. He didn’t bother telling Allura or Coran where he was going; even _he_ didn’t know where he was headed. But his team was well aware of his restlessness after long flights. They could track his location on his phone, it was fine.

It was only 6pm but it was already dark outside. And cold. But not as cold as France was, thank God. Still, Keith dug his hands into his pockets, cursing his jacket’s “fashion over functionality” design. The lights and sounds of the city were dazzling, enough to distract him from the cold soon enough. He’d never been to Tokyo before. He’d only been to Japan once before, during Juniors Worlds, and at that time he’d been in Osaka. 

Keith wandered around aimlessly, dooming himself to get hopelessly lost. Of course he couldn’t read any of the signs unless they were accompanied by English. But he knew enough Japanese to feel confident enough hailing a cab later on and getting back to the hotel. For now, getting lost was part of the fun. 

Keith made his way through a busy shopping district, and that’s when he first noticed it. Every now and then, people would stop and stare at him. He pulled out his phone in a hurry, flipping his camera to see if there was something on his face, or if his hair was weird. Strangely enough, he looked perfectly average. Keith shrugged it off and kept walking.

But the stares just became more frequent. Then the whispers began. Keith, of course, couldn’t speak Japanese, but he _could_ recognize his name in the buzz around him. Finally, the mystery was solved when a small group of teen girls called his name, giggling when he looked their way. They walked up to him and held out a poster and pen. Keith frowned. Then he realized it was a poster of _him_ , and they were asking for an autograph.

“Oh yeah, sure,” he smiled at them awkwardly, taking the pen and signing.

It was like that one small action opened the floodgates.

Soon, the three fans turned into ten, which turned into twenty. Keith was quickly swarmed with fans he forgot he even had. He _always_ forgot how active his fanbase could be overseas. But even so, they’d never been this big before. For the first time, Keith was slightly regretting winning gold.

He tried leaving, thanking the fans politely and walking away, but they kept pulling him back in. There seemed to be no escape and Keith was quickly getting overwhelmed.

Then, like a cry of heaven having mercy on him, he heard a man shout something he _barely_ caught the jist of—was there a mention of Yuzuru Hanyu?—and the crowd of girls were momentarily focused elsewhere. That split second of distraction was all it took for a strong hand to grab his arm and quickly drag him down the street and into a side alley.

Once in the safety of the dark alley, Keith looked up, ready to thank his savior. All remarks died in his throat. Standing before him was maybe the hottest guy he’d ever seen. Tall and built like a brick house, dressed in clothes that screamed chic; the scar across his nose and streak of white hair only added to his character rather than detract. 

“You okay? You looked like you could use some help,” the mystery man spoke first, offering Keith a soft smile.

Keith fought to remember how to breathe.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, thanks,” he managed to choke out, before remembering his manners and extending his hand. “I’m Keith.”

“Shiro,” the man replied with a smile, shaking his hand. “You’re that figure skater from America, right?”

Keith was taken aback. “Yeah, how did…”

“Guess you could say I’m a fan,” Shiro interrupted with a casual shrug.

Keith raised a brow at that, but let it go. Mainly because he could hear the girls starting to search for him again. Shiro must’ve heard it at the same time, because he started jogging down the alley, motioning for Keith to follow. They made their way down the alley, taking a few turns down some narrower paths, and Keith really hoped this Shiro guy knew where he was going. He also hoped he wasn’t stupidly following a serial killer or something, but that was a secondary concern.

Finally, they emerged onto a street, much less populated than the district Keith was in before. Shiro kept walking, and so naturally, Keith kept following. The man finally stopped next to a parked bike, a beautiful black Kawasaki Ninja. Shiro pulled keys out of his pocket and spun them cooly around his finger, the metal of his hand glinting in the streetlight. Interesting.

“I can give you a ride, wherever you want. _If_ you want, obviously.”

Shiro extended the offer, and Keith was free to take it or leave it. Shiro had successfully led him away from the mob of fangirls. Shiro hadn’t killed him in the alleys. Maybe the smart thing to do would be calling a cab and hightailing it back to hotel before he got into more trouble. But, well, Keith always _did_ have a penchant for causing trouble.

“Yeah. Take me somewhere with less people?” Keith asked, stepping forward tentatively.

Shiro gave him a curious smile. He walked over to the bike and pulled out two helmets from the saddlebags. He held one out to Keith, with a questioning gaze.

“You’re gonna trust me like that?”

Keith smirked, rising to the challenge, and stepped forward to grab the helmet.

“Not the worst choice I’ve ever made.”

Shiro laughed, a pleasant rumble, and straddled the bike, starting the engine. Keith pulled on his own helmet before sliding in behind Shiro. Whether the seat was too small or Shiro was too big, the result was the same: Keith had to slide all the way forward, literally glued to Shiro’s back. His jacket was a sleek leather, the type that must’ve been hundreds of dollars more expensive than Keith’s.

As Shiro revved the engine and took off, all thoughts flew from Keith’s head. The Grand Prix, Coran, his career… none of it mattered in this moment. All he focused on was the feeling of adrenaline rushing through him as they sped through the city. It wasn’t unsimilar to the way skating made him feel. The rush of speed, the world flying by in a swirl of movement. The only difference was the warm weight in front of him.

Keith wrapped his arms tighter around Shiro’s waist and enjoyed the ride.

 

 

Shiro ended up taking him to a park by the coastline. It had some long name to it, of which Keith only remembered the word “tsubasa.” The air was cooler by the water, but it was a nice chill. It soothed the fire that had built in Keith’s stomach from being pressed so close to Shiro’s broad back for so long. Keith swore he could still smell the man’s cologne, even over the sea brine. 

Shiro parked his bike and then started walking. He led them to the railing that overlooked the ocean, and Keith noticed the path lined with benches. Keith went and sat down, sighing wearily. Shiro smiled down at him but didn’t take a seat; he went to lean against the railing, watching the airplanes fly over the ocean.

This was nice.

It was exactly the kind of peace Keith needed. Shiro had really delivered, taking him somewhere void of people. He could see how this place would normally be thriving in the daylight, but at night it seemed they were the only ones around. The planes that flew overhead were the only thing breaking their calm silence.

Keith took this valuable time to reflect. Not on his life or the competition he would face tomorrow. No, he took this time to observe and appreciate the handsome stranger in front of him. 

From this angle, Shiro appeared even taller, his back even broader. There was no denying, he was exactly Keith’s type. But was Keith _his_ type? He sorely hoped so. There was a pull in his chest, a need for him to strike up conversation and find out. But Keith was tired and feeling just a little too much out of place. He didn’t know what to say.

As if reading his mind, Shiro turned around, watching Keith as he leaned back against the railing.

“So, you’re here for the NHK Cup.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Keith still nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“First time in Japan?”

Keith shook his head, sitting forward. “No, I’ve been here for Worlds a few years ago. I was, obviously, a lot less popular back then.”

Shiro quirked a smile that said he knew more about Keith than he initially assumed. Shiro _did_ say he was a fan, right? Keith wondered exactly what he meant by that.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” Keith said, filling the silence that grew between them.

“No problem,” he chuckled, turning those dark eyes on him. “Fans here are very friendly. But I’m not surprised they mobbed you. Talented, young _and_ handsome? They would’ve torn you apart if I left you.”

Keith offered a quick smile before looking away. He didn’t want to admit how flustered he was at being called handsome. Was Shiro just stating a fact? Or was he offering a compliment? It was hard to tell. Keith decided to test the waters.

“Yeah? So then, you must get mobbed daily.”

Shiro looked surprised for a second before recovering.

“Well, I’m not especially talented or famous--”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Their eyes met and held for a moment that felt like eternity. Keith swore Shiro’s eyes had darkened even more. Keith smiled, sharp, _playful_ , and when Shiro chuckled this time, it was deeper.

“I was trying to be humble,” he joked, looking back out at the ocean. “Yeah, I’m quite popular with women in my workplace. Too bad they’re not really my type.”

That felt like _Shiro_ was the one testing the waters. Keith played along, wanting to see where this went.

“Really? Not a single one?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Shiro shrugged, almost succeeding at sounding casual. “I’m just not interested in women.”

“Oh. Makes sense.”

They fell silent after that remark, never breaking eye contact. Keith couldn’t have been imagining the tension between them, not this time. Sure, he wasn’t always the best at reading social cues, but this seemed clear enough. He was about 90% sure Shiro _might_ be interested in him. So now… what to do with that information?

Keith mulled over his options, biting his lower lip in thought. He didn’t miss the way Shiro’s eyes followed the movement. _That_ warmed him up real fast. He was seriously considering throwing caution to the wind and just going for it. So what if he had to compete tomorrow? He could afford to show up a little sore, right? He’d probably still make it to the podium. Keith let his eyes scan Shiro’s body once more. It’d totally be worth it.

But before Keith could keep thinking with his dick, Shiro turned away and stretched. And damn if he didn’t enjoy _that_ view.

“Which hotel are you staying at?” Shiro asked, turning back around.

The tone was friendly enough, but the question could allude to several things. The conflict must’ve been clear on Keith’s face, because Shiro smiled and elaborated.

“So I can drop you off. Men’s short programs are tomorrow, right? You should rest.”

That… wasn’t exactly what Keith wanted to hear. But now that it’d been proposed, he knew it was the right thing to do. A night of fun wouldn’t be worth risking a chance at gold again. Keith might enjoy it in the moment, but he’d regret it eventually, for sure.

“Oh, yeah, right. Thanks. I’m at the Hilton Tokyo,” he replied, standing up and stretching a bit himself.

Shiro whistled. “Fancy. That’s about thirty minutes from here. We should get going.”

“Okay.”

The walk back to the motorcycle was short and silent. The fire that was dulling in Keith’s veins reignited as he pressed against Shiro’s back again. The whole ride back, Keith was contemplating how to take his shot. He really didn’t want to let this tension go unresolved. Should he invite Shiro up to his room? Maybe play safe and give Shiro his number? Then the doubt crept back in.

Was Shiro even really interested? He’d been too nonchalant about taking him back. Shiro could have made a move, could’ve given _Keith_ a chance to make a move, but he hadn’t. The uncertainty swirled in his chest, gnawing away at his resolve.

Before he knew it, they were pulling up to the hotel, Shiro driving them straight to the front entrance. Keith slowly slid off the bike and handed the helmet back, trying to come up with something to say.

“Thanks again, for everything.”

Okay, not a bad start.

“It was my pleasure,” Shiro drawled with a lazy smile that sent fire singing through his veins.

He was about to do it, take the plunge and make a move, but Shiro revved his bike and winked.

“Good luck tomorrow Keith. I’ll be rooting for you.”

And with that final remark, he sped off, leaving Keith dumbstruck in the hotel valet.

 

 

The next morning, Keith rose at 6am sharp, like usual. His internal clock worked despite jet lag, for better or worse. He’d been hoping to sleep off the disappointment of last night, but letting Shiro go so unresolved still lingered in his chest. Keith pulled out his phone, scrolling through twitter, and contemplated going back to sleep. His competition didn’t start until the evening, and the training rink wouldn’t be open for several more hours.

But then his stomach growled and he gave up on that prospect. Keith hauled himself out of bed, groaning as he stretched, and trudged to the bathroom. He lazily went through his morning routine, not in a rush to get anywhere. He tugged on some sweats and his Team USA jacket before wandering down to the hotel lobby.

Just as he hoped, Keith spotted Allura, looking just as begrudgingly awake as him. Her competitions didn’t even begin until tomorrow. 

Keith walked up to her and she greeted him with a tired nod. They made the silent decision to wander around together, looking for a place to grab breakfast. First thing in the morning definitely didn’t have them feeling adventurous, so they settled on the cafe inside the hotel.

Once they each had two cups of coffee in their system, Keith sighed and began retelling his tale of epically failed romance. Allura laughed at the end of it, in that unique way of hers that was loving and teasing at the same time. Keith didn’t know how she pulled that off. No one _else_ would get away with laughing at him, that’s for sure.

Once they had their fill of coffee and carbs—hey, he could afford an extra serving of potatoes on competition day, okay?—Allura checked the time. It would still be another two hours before the rink opened for practice. She insisted they go sightsee a bit before heading to the arena. Keith shrugged in agreement, having nothing better to do.

They went back up to his room real quick, so he could put on sneakers instead of the flip flops he was wearing now. He opened the door and froze in the entryway. Allura made a noise of surprise and pushed past him to get inside. 

There, on his freshly made bed, sat an elaborate arrangement of multi-colored roses. Allura beat him to the bouquet, softly admiring the fresh flowers. Keith followed soon enough, once his stupor wore off. He didn’t know much about flowers, but he _did_ know that an arrangement like that didn’t come cheap. He looked at the roses more closely. There was a note.

Keith quickly snatched the piece of paper before Allura could snoop. He walked to the other side of the room before reading it, making sure Allura was too busy admiring the roses to notice.

There, in delicate handwritten scrawl, was a simple message:

_I know you’ll sweep me off my feet again. Own the ice, today and always. Shiro._

Wow, what the _fuck_. Keith shoved the note in his pocket, properly flustered, and turned back to Allura. She was stroking the roses with a funny smile.

“What is it?” He asked, standing next to her.

She looked up with a glint in her eye. “Keith, do you know the language of flowers?”

“Uh, not really,” he shrugged, “But roses are romantic, right?” 

She hummed. “Dark red means beauty, admiration and desire. Orange usually symbolizes desire and enthusiasm. But lavender… lavender is very rare. It means love at first sight.”

Allura looked up at him, blue eyes glittering with questions. Keith wasn’t ready to answer _any_ of them.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave now,” he said, trying but failing not to sound choked up.

“Keith, who are these from?” She sing-songed, clearly already guessing the answer.

“Bye Allura! See you later!” He drowned out her teasing, forcefully shoving her towards the door.

“Keith! I swear--”

Her warning was cut off as Keith slammed the door behind her. Safe, he let out a shaky sigh, his heart hammering in his chest. He pressed his back against the door and slid to the floor. After taking a moment to calm himself, he reached back into his pocket and pulled out the note.

Suddenly, Keith knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with _just_ making it to the podium. He wanted gold. He’d always wanted gold, of course, but this was different. After receiving a gift like this, he _needed_ to win gold. It was a challenge, and he readily accepted it.

 

 

At the end of the first day, Keith was in a solid third place. He’d scored a new personal best for his short program, but that step out of his quad salchow docked him enough to squeeze him out of second. But it was fine. Keith had made greater comebacks with lower scores before. He could do it again.

The whole drive back to the hotel, Keith couldn’t help but wonder if Shiro had been watching him.

That particular question was answered the next morning. Keith had, once again, woken up at dawn and decided to take a walk around the block to clear his head. While out, he stopped for coffee and inspected nearby restaurants that they could go to tomorrow, when competitions were over with. When he returned to the hotel, the front desk stopped him before he could get to the elevators.

Keith had a delivery waiting for him.

With a hardly contained excitement, Keith took the package from the clerk and rushed up to his room. Once behind the safety of his locked door, Keith allowed himself to inspect the package. It was small, wrapped in simple white paper. Keith bit his lip and slowly unwrapped it. The box underneath gave him pause; or rather, the brand label stamped on the box gave him pause.

Simple black, with the signature silver Versace logo. Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Did he dare open it? He certain as hell did. Inside, there was another note. Keith held his breath as he read it.

_Gold, to match your medal tomorrow. But let me know if I need to exchange them for silver. Shiro._

Holy shit. _Holy shit_. He moved the note and underneath were a pair of simple gold stud earrings. Simple. Tasteful. Probably ridiculously expensive. He loved them. He was keeping them. And that meant he had to put on the performance of his _life_ tonight and win gold.

Keith picked up the note again and smiled. Before, he’d been wondering if Shiro was unintentionally provoking him. But this was clear evidence that Shiro, somehow, knew about Keith’s love of a challenge, and was taking advantage of that. 

_Exchange them for silver._

“Oh, it’s so on.”

 

 

Maybe when Keith wasn’t so caught up in the moment, he would find his sudden relationship with Shiro to be kind of… weird. Not a relationship in the sense of dating, but what else do you call an instance in which one party sends increasingly expensive and motivational gifts to another party? 

But the fact was that Keith _was_ caught up in the moment, so _of course_ he wore the earrings during his free skate performance. He just knew Shiro would be watching, and he was about to give the performance of his career.

The opening notes to “I’m Still Here” played and Keith was off.

Everything narrowed down to just him and the ice. The cold of it seeped into his bones, only to be met with the fire he always carried inside. But he wasn’t trying to fight it any longer. No, Keith let the cold in to temper him. In return, the ice allowed him to carve across its surface, intricate spins and jumps leaving deep scars.

He fumbled the landing on one of his triple loops, but didn’t let it phase him. Without overthinking it, Keith mentally changed his ending quad salchow to a quad flip. The strain on his body would be intense, but he could do it, he had the endurance. It was the only way to make up the points, and he needed every point to win.

He closed his eyes and took the leap.

 

 

When Keith stood on the podium the next night to accept the gold medal, he had on his earrings, and a new gold Cartier bracelet to match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the versace earrings](https://www.versace.com/gb/en-gb/men/accessories/fashion-jewellery/medusa-head-stud-earrings-d00h/DG25591-DMT1_D00H.html?cgid=243000#start=1)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [the cartier bracelet](http://www.cartier.co.uk/en-gb/collections/jewelry/categories/bracelets/jewelry-for-men/b6035517-love-bracelet.html)
> 
>  
> 
> this has been sitting in my drafts for legit almost 2 months now lmao. i dont like posting stories that im currently working on. i usually post after it's _completely_ done bc im always scared of not finishing lol. but!! we'll see how this goes~
> 
> no promise on consistency of updates. but the next chapter is done and _will_ be up in a week or so. after that? whom knows.
> 
> hmu on tumblr [@fratboyshiro](https://fratboyshiro.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

Keith sat in his hotel room, deaf to the incessant buzzing of his phone. Last night had been amazing. Feeling the rush of victory, tasting gold for the second time; glancing down and watching the lights reflect on his gold bracelet. It had been nothing short of surreal. And now, he was afraid it was all coming to an end.

At the end of the day, Keith had no way to get in touch with Shiro. He really didn’t know anything about the other man, besides his name and face. _Shiro_ had been the one reaching out to him, in the form of gifts and teasing notes. Keith hadn’t realized how one-sided the exchange was until now.

Well, maybe not one-sided. After the first gift, Keith knew Shiro was watching his competitions from _somewhere_. He’d seen Keith wear the gifts. That had to mean something, right? He didn’t know anymore.

He sighed, more like a groan, and threw himself on the bed in frustration. His phone was going off again. It was probably Allura, or Coran, reminding him to hurry up. Keith frowned and fought against the disappointment clawing at his throat.

His flight was in three hours. He’d be leaving Tokyo for Italy, and he hadn’t received any sign of Shiro since the Cartier bracelet.

A loud bang on his door startled Keith out of his thoughts.

“Keith! You better not be answering my calls because you’re _so busy_ packing!”

Even muffled through the door, Allura’s voice was bold and commanding. She was _mad_. Keith winced and crawled out of bed. He gently opened the door with an awkward smile.

“I’m all packed. I was taking a shit.”

Allura huffed and narrowed her eyes. She peeked over his shoulder into his room. Like he said, all his bags were packed and ready to go. She glared at him suspiciously.

“I’ll let it go, since you really are packed. But don’t lie to me again.”

Keith was about to protest, but Allura rolled her eyes and walked away.

“It’s a known fact you always play sudoku on your phone while taking a shit. You could’ve texted me back.”

Keith chuckled and closed the door. She got him there. 

He looked around his packed up room and let out a heavy sigh. Well, he really had waited as long as he could. With a frown, Keith grabbed his bags and went to meet Allura in the hall. Maybe this was where their connection was fated to end. Keith wasn’t sure if he could ever be satisfied with that.

He made one final attempt before they left. Keith walked up to the front desk and asked if he had any packages or maybe a message. Something, _anything_ to give him hope. But there was nothing.

Nothing. 

Keith couldn’t conceal the sinking disappointment as they drove to the airport, face pressed to the cool glass window of the cab. They zoomed through the streets of Tokyo, the sights flying by them so much different in the daylight, so much different when not on the back of a motorcycle. He sighed, breath fogging the window to hide the view of planes taking off in the distance. He’d be on one very, very soon, bound for the Grand Prix finals in Naples.

 

 

The flight was long, and boring, and Keith kept himself occupied by running his mind in circles. No matter how many scenarios he ran through, Keith couldn’t find a single way to make his situation better. There was really just no way to get in contact with Shiro again. Not unless Shiro found him first, which Keith wasn’t betting on.

He already tried using Google, but it was harder than he thought to find a man he’d known for maybe an hour. Shiro was probably a nickname at best. So, he had no first or last name. He had no idea what Shiro did for a living. Keith wasn’t even all that sure if Shiro was a Japanese national, or mixed, or what, so that wasn’t even a good search tool. All he knew was that Shiro was ridiculously handsome, probably stupidly wealthy, and had a killer sense of humor.

None of those facts were helping Keith at all.

After getting off the plane and suffering a long taxi ride to the hotel, Keith didn’t even have enough energy to be restless. If Allura and Coran noticed his despondence, they didn’t comment on it at all. That was the wise thing to do.

When they arrived at the hotel, Keith had fully planned to go straight to his room and sleep off the weird funk he’d fallen into. In no reality was a guy he barely knew gonna mess up his performance in the _Grand Prix finals_. He’d sooner eat his own damn skate than let that happen.

As he waited for Coran to finish checking them in, Keith naturally let his eyes wander around the lobby. It was a nice hotel. Lots of fancy upholstery, wide lounge areas, people in expensive get-ups milling about. Keith glanced around lazily, not really absorbing much, but something in his peripherals caught his attention. His head snapped around in an audible doubletake.

There, sitting in an armchair, casually sipping on a fancy Italian coffee, sat none other than the source of Keith’s headache for the past 19 hours. Shiro was sitting _right there_ , not 30 feet away, and Keith felt a strange mix of anger and anxiety rise in him. Huh, that was a new emotional combo, for sure. 

Shiro looked up from his phone, locking eyes with him, and Keith didn’t know what to do. What were you supposed to do when your wealthy thirst trap suddenly showed up in a new foreign city, at the exact hotel you were staying at, conveniently right at check in?

Right, you panicked. Keith turned around, noting stiffly that Coran finally had their room keys. They began walking toward the elevator and Keith scrambled to follow.

“Keith!”

A voice he’d know anywhere called out after him. And how ridiculous was it that a voice he’d only heard once could sound so familiar? Coran and Allura had paused ahead, looking back at him curiously. The sound of approaching footsteps felt deafening on the marble floor. Keith took in a deep breath through his nose and turned to meet his fate. 

“Oh, hey Shiro. Hi. Fancy meeting you here,” Keith drawled, slightly strained and not altogether disguising the accusatory tone.

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” Shiro replied with a nervous chuckle.

Keith couldn’t find it in him to laugh along. The sharp burn of anger was still too prominent. But looking up into those dark eyes, taking in those handsome features in the soft hotel lighting… well, it was softening him up pretty quickly. His fading temper might’ve also had something to do with the incredibly apologetic and nervous look on Shiro’s face.

“So listen, I don’t wanna hold you up. But do you wanna grab dinner with me? I understand if you’re tired--”

“Sounds great,” Keith quickly interrupted, too sharp to sound eager, but too soft to sound curt. Strange, all of this was strange.

Shiro gave him a gracious smile in return and Keith sighed. He had just come off a 16 hour flight. He’d hardly slept, he hadn’t eaten, and he probably looked like roadkill. But he did his best to put on a flirty smile and look casual.

“Give me an hour to get freshened up?”

Shiro nodded, quick to accommodate. “Of course. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“Cool.” Keith smiled, looking over to see Allura still waiting by the elevator. He gave Shiro an awkward wave as he backed up. “Uh, see you.”

Shiro smiled and offered a wave of his own, before walking back to his abandoned lounge seat. Keith turned on his heel and hurried to the elevators, fist clenched tight around his suitcase. Allura pressed the service button as he approached, barely biting back a smile. But she didn’t say anything.

Not until they were behind closed doors, climbing slowly to the 7th floor.

“Was that your new sugar daddy?” She whispered teasingly.

“Stop calling him that!”

 

 

Keith had about 15 minutes left before he was due to meet Shiro downstairs, and he couldn’t decide what to wear. 

He’d wasted a good amount of the past 45 minutes soaking in a hot shower and then screaming into his pillow. Maybe he should’ve cut his pillow-screaming short so that he wouldn’t be here now, staring blankly at his suitcase. Keith didn’t pack his bags for competitions with love affairs and hot strangers in mind. He packed for comfort and function; meaning, he had sweats, sweats, track pants, and more sweats.

Before he could strangle himself with another pair of joggers, there was a rapid knock on his door. He opened it and watched Allura stroll inside with a duffle bag. She paused by his bed, covered in strewn active wear, and tisked.

“You’re absolutely hopeless.”

With a flourish that was completely uncalled for, she swept his clothes to the floor and plopped her duffle bag on the cleared spot. Keith watched with barely contained relief as she pulled out an assortment of clothing items. Allura arranged them on the bed into three different outfits and stepped back. 

“Alright, which one do you fancy?”

Keith carefully inspected the outfits before him. He was drawn to the middle option: black pleather pants and a red scoop neck sweater. Simple, yet functional. Also, sure to be skin tight. Although Keith and Allura were similar in size, Allura _was_ just a fraction smaller than him, and women’s clothes always ran tight. But for tonight, Keith figured tight would work just fine.

“Thanks Allura.”

“Of course. Now hurry, don’t want to keep Mr. Moneybags waiting.”

Keith grabbed the outfit and went to change in the restroom. The top fit him just right, the neckline wide enough to just barely expose his collar bones. The pants, as expected, clung to his thighs and ass, but in a very flattering way. He combed through his still damp hair with his fingers and shrugged. This was as good as it got.

He walked back into the main room to Allura, lounging on the bed playing music. Ah, Money Bag by Cardi B. A tasteful choice for the evening. Speaking of money bags… Keith walked over to his suitcase and dug out the small jewelry box he’d safely stashed away. Would wearing the bracelet be too much? Keith didn’t have many accessories, and even though he usually wouldn’t care, his outfit just felt so _plain_ without a little something extra.

“You look good. He better take you somewhere expensive,” Allura commented, turning down the music.

He snorted. “I think you’re enjoying the prospect of a sugar daddy more than I am.”

“Well, someone has to enjoy it,” she drawled. “But, I know you’re going to have more fun than I ever would. Be safe, make good decisions.”

“Yeah, thanks mom.” 

He quickly grabbed his jacket and dashed out the door before Allura could retaliate. A solid thud came from the other side of the closed door. He’d narrowly dodged whatever it was she’d thrown. Keith shrugged on his jacket and hurried to the elevator. Although his anger at being left hanging hadn’t fully faded, Keith knew the only way to get over it was to confront Shiro and get some well-deserved answers. 

The second the elevator door opened, Keith marched out into the lobby, eyes scanning the area for Shiro. He wasn’t sitting in the same spot anymore. Instead, he was lounging against a pillar near the entrance, fiddling with his phone. Shiro must’ve taken the hour to go and change as well, because he certainly wasn’t wearing _that_ when Keith last saw him.

He’d traded dark wash jeans for fitted slacks and his earlier gray henley was replaced with a simple white button up. With the top two buttons undone, of course. The outfit was nicely wrapped together with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. Keith paused, taking a minute to compose himself.

Shiro looked up, immediately finding him standing a distance away, and smiled. Keith did his best to return the smile, resuming his approach. He didn’t miss the way Shiro's eyes swept over his body. Something in Keith preened at the attention, even as his palms grew sweaty. Knees weak, arms spaghetti. He shook his head a little, hoping to dislodge the stupid song now playing in his mind. That happened when he was nervous. 

“You look nice,” Shiro complimented once he was close enough.

“Thanks. You too.”

Keith felt… awkward. Standing there, in a fancy Italian hotel, dressed in Allura’s clothes ready to go to dinner with a man who’d spent well over 10k on him by now… what else was Keith supposed to feel? This was a situation he’d never imagined himself in, not in a thousand years. It wasn’t just the money thing, or the fact that Shiro was the most attractive man he’d ever seen. There was something magnetic about him. 

Keith found himself drawn to someone he hardly knew.

“There’s a restaurant I like that’s not far from here. You don’t mind riding my bike again, do you?”

Keith snorted. What kind of question was that? But also, that meant… 

“You brought your bike?”

Shiro smirked. “Of course.”

 

 

Twenty minutes of swerving through narrow roads later, Keith was struggling to fix his hair outside of a small oceanside restaurant. He normally wouldn’t bother, but the place looked _nice_. Shiro patiently waited with him, smiling ruefully at his struggle. Keith huffed. Of _course_ Shiro’s hair would still look perfect. Keith froze when he felt a large, warm hand brush through his bangs.

“You look perfect. Let’s go?” 

Keith couldn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded and followed Shiro inside.

The interior was even nicer than the outside, if that was possible. Candles at the tables made up the majority of lighting, a soft glow casting a romantic filter over the restaurant. The floor to ceiling windows gave a clear view of the ocean, the last rays of the setting sun painting the sky in brilliant warm hues. Keith couldn’t help but pause and gawk at the sight for a moment.

Shiro went up to the hostess and—wow, was he speaking perfect Italian? Keith forced his mouth shut, since he was sure his jaw dropped for a second there. The hostess hurried to grab some menus, looking understandably flustered, and Keith scrambled to catch up as they were led to a table. 

They were seated in a private table towards the back, right up against the windows. Keith didn’t know which view he should focus on: the glittering ocean, the rose colored sky, or the man in front of him. Shiro stripped out of his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up, and yeah, Keith was definitely focused on _that_ view. As an afterthought, he stripped off his own jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair before sitting down.

Keith didn’t miss the way Shiro’s eyes lingered on his neckline, appreciating the tasteful low scoop of his shirt. Keith was definitely gonna order extra food to take back to Allura as a thank you. He reached for a menu, not sure what to do with his hands. Shiro’s eyes traveled down to his wrist, where the gold Cartier bracelet delicately rested. Shiro smiled, soft and private, and Keith was glad he decided to wear it.

Keith glanced down at the menu again and blinked.

“Is this all in Italian? I can’t read Italian.”

Shiro stared at him for a moment before laughing.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t think about that. Want me to translate it?” He offered.

Keith contemplated for a moment, but ultimately shook his head no.

“Nah, just order for me. I like pasta. No seafood or red meat before competition though.”

Shiro smiled at him playfully. “Wow, you’re gonna trust me like that?”

Keith smiled back, not missing a beat.

“Of course.”

Shiro waved over a waiter, rattling off an order. Keith watched him, bemused. The waiter smiled and took away their menus, and Keith wondered how expensive Shiro’s order must’ve been to put that much pep in his step.

“So, Italy. You just randomly happened to be in town? In my hotel? On the night I arrived?”

Keith launched straight into the questions, sipping lightly on his expensive mineral water. Shiro had the decency to look sheepish. He stalled by taking a long sip of water. Keith drummed his fingers as he waited.

“Yes, so, Italy. Grand Prix finals are here in Naples. It wasn’t hard to make a few calls and figure out all the skaters were staying in the Santa Lucia.”

“And you decided to crash the party… why?”

“Because I kind of… forgot to give you my number,” Shiro laughed, a nervous sound.

Keith blinked. “Wow. So obviously, the solution was to just… fly halfway across the world? You could’ve just like… tweeted me or something.”

“Oh,” and it was utterly _ridiculous_ , the fact that Shiro sounded genuinely surprised. As if such a solution hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The waiter chose that moment to re-appear, brandishing a bottle of white wine. Shiro nodded his thanks and the waiter poured them each a glass. Keith reached for the glass once the waiter was out of sight, sniffing suspiciously at the contents. It smelled expensive. He took a sip and narrowed his eyes at Shiro.

“What do you even _do_ for a living?”

Shiro grabbed his own glass of wine, swirling the contents and avoiding eye contact.

“Uh, well… have you ever heard of Rebel Cybernetics?”

Keith raised a brow. “Yeah?”

Who _hadn’t_ heard of Rebel Cybernetics? They basically revolutionized the science of cybernetic prosthetics and were the leaders in their field. Well, okay, so lots of people might not know them. It was a pretty niche topic. Point was, Keith knew about the science firm, and his curiosity was piqued.

“Well. I own half of their patents.”

Keith nearly choked on his wine. His eyes immediately darted down to Shiro’s prosthetic arm. He _thought_ it looked high tech as hell. Shiro noticed where his attention drifted and extended his arm across the table. Keith reached out and traced his fingers over the sleek metal.

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Thanks,” Shiro smiled, a little crooked, pulling back his hand as the waiter appeared once more.

He said something to Shiro in Italian, setting down a platter and then leaving. Keith eyed the fancy assortment of cheeses, cured meats and olives. 

“Antipasto,” Shiro said, as if that explained anything.

“Oh, like, an appetizer?”

Shiro chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

Keith watched as Shiro picked up one of the many forks arranged on the table. Keith had never been to a restaurant with more than one type of fork, okay? So obviously, he moved to copy the man. The first bite of cured meat and cheese had a surprised moan leaving his throat. Shiro smiled around his own fork.

“Good?”

Keith nodded, already going in for more. After a few precious moments of silence over the antipasto, Keith grabbed his wine and took another generous sip. He really shouldn’t drink before competition, but one glass wouldn’t hurt.

“So, you’re a scientist then? Or something.”

“Or something,” Shiro smiled. “My arm was the first prototype of our patent actually. My friend Matt and I worked on it together. I still work in research and development now and then, but recently I’ve taken a… break, I guess.”

“Hm, nice.”

Another waiter came by and picked up their empty plate. As soon as the table was cleared, their original waiter came by with new plates. It was a curious arrangement of small dishes, from spirals of pasta, to delicately arranged vegetables. There were about five different dishes, two of each kind, so Keith could only guess that this was their entree. He couldn’t fight back a laugh once the waiter was gone again.

“What?” Shiro looked at him curiously.

“Nothing just… man, it’s really true that rich people pay more money for less food, huh?” Keith chuckled.

“It’s all about the _quality_ ,” Shiro retorted, but even he couldn’t fight back a broad smile. 

Keith hummed skeptically. The plate in front of him literally had one forkful of pasta on it. He could finish it in one bite, easy. No matter how good it tasted, he was sure it wasn’t worth whatever crazy amount they charged. But Shiro was still watching him, waiting, and so Keith got to eating his bite-sized entrees.

Silence stretched between them again as they ate. Keith could admit the bite-sized entrees were pretty damn delicious. He glanced up through his lashes, trying to sneak a peek at Shiro, only to find the man already looking at him. Keith felt heat rise to his face as he darted his eyes quickly away. He focused instead on the window next to him, showcasing the glittering ocean and bright moon that had finally risen.

It was breathtaking.

Keith was in Naples, Italy. He was sitting in a high-class Italian restaurant, with a man with more zeros in his bank account than Keith could imagine. There was a fucking candle on their table, casting everything in a warm glow, and Keith was wearing a gold bracelet that he’d been gifted within 48 hours of knowing the man. It was safe to assume this was a date, right?

Right?

Keith shoved another forkful of pasta in his mouth. It wouldn’t do him any good to overthink it now. He focused his energy on enjoying the food and the company. There was always _later_.

 

 

The night air was sharp with cold when they finally left the restaurant. Inside, amongst all the candle light and warmth, it was easy to forget it was still winter. Keith couldn’t ignore the cold now, burrowing further into his leather jacket. Shiro shot him a look at that, and for a moment there, Keith was convinced the other man was going to sling an arm over him. He wouldn’t have been opposed to that.

But Shiro just smiled and kept chattering on about whatever random topic they’d been discussing. Keith hid a frown behind his sleeve. Shiro’s bike was parked rather close to the entrance, so they didn’t have to walk in the cold for long. As Keith tugged the helmet on, a spike of warmth and dread settled in his stomach at the same time.

On one hand, getting on the bike meant pressing close to Shiro once more. On the other, it meant this night was coming to an end. It was late, and he should go back to the hotel and sleep before competition tomorrow. But leaving things unresolved again wouldn’t sit well with him.

“You okay, Keith?”

Shiro was sitting on the bike, watching him with worried eyes. Keith must’ve been standing and staring into space for too long. With a quick, strained smile, Keith nodded and settled on the bike behind Shiro.

If Keith wrapped his arms a little tighter around Shiro’s waist, well, he didn’t mention it.

The ride to the hotel was all too short, even though Keith was sure Shiro took the scenic route. The hotel appeared in the distance and Keith clung even tighter. His heart pounded in his chest, in anticipation of what was to come.

Keith wasn’t going to let this go again.

Shiro pulled the bike into the resident parking lot instead of the valet, which Keith was grateful for. Any scene he was about to cause would be fractionally less embarrassing this way. Shiro parked in the designated motorcycle area, and Keith had the fleeting thought that Shiro might also be a guest at the same hotel. A thought to dwell on later.

Keith pulled off his helmet, smoothing down his hair while still out of sight. He scooted back on the bike to give Shiro more room to remove his own helmet, and only then did Keith stand up. Shiro stayed seated. Like this, Keith was just a little taller than Shiro. Just barely. Keith handed him back the helmet with a smile.

“Thanks for dinner, it was good.”

“It was my pleasure. You’re good company,” Shiro smiled, wide and sincere.

Keith hummed, a low sound in his throat, and stepped closer. Closer, so he was standing right up against the bike, Shiro’s warmth radiating from where they almost touched. Keith brought up a tentative hand, running light fingers along Shiro’s jawline, eyes intent on the man’s deep gray ones. Shiro stared back at him, not exactly startled, but eyes wide with some sort of wonder, confusion, maybe even hope.

“Yeah?” Keith breathed the question against his lips, body tense from holding back.

Shiro nodded, leaning into Keith’s touch, and that was all the answer he needed. 

If Keith was fire, molten veins and smoke in his lungs, then Shiro was like a pool of cool water. The minute their lips touched, Keith was surprised there wasn’t a hiss, a rise of steam as they met. Keith didn’t take things slow, he never had, and this was no different. He entered the kiss with that same blazing intention, hard and fast and _wanting_.

For the first time, he was met with a resistance he didn’t immediately aim to overcome.

Shiro moved against him with a tempered ease, the patient push of his slightly chapped lips a shocking contrast. Something clattered to the ground, and Keith drew in a harsh breath through his nose as Shiro’s hands settled firmly on his hips. He’d dropped the helmets then. Keith sighed into the next kiss, letting himself get pulled even closer. He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, moving them from Shiro’s strong jaw, to raking through his undercut, to finally settling on his broad shoulders. The leather was soft and warm under his hands, and Keith let himself melt into it.

It wasn’t fast or frantic or messy, but that didn’t mean his kiss didn’t _burn_ , in a way Keith was wholly unfamiliar with.

He pulled away first, hands flexing on Shiro’s shoulders, trying to hide the way he was practically shaking. That was maybe one of the tamest makeouts Keith's ever had, so why did it feel like he was coming apart? Shiro’s hands were still warm on his waist, and it didn’t seem he was keen on letting go. Keith let out a surprised groan when Shiro surged up, placing light, teasing kisses along his exposed neck.

This was too much. Too much, and not enough, and Keith was dizzy, staring up at the stars as warmth bloomed along his throat.

“Shiro,” he whispered, voice trembling, “Shiro, do you have a room here?”

Keith fought not to whine when Shiro pulled away, instead lowering his head. Shiro’s eyes were dark with want, lips and cheeks flushed a brilliant pink. Keith couldn’t look away, waiting for Shiro to answer his less than vague invitation.

“I do, but…” Shiro sighed and moved his hands, putting some space between them. Keith blinked as he took a step back, confused by the gentle look Shiro was sending his way.

“Listen, you have your short program tomorrow at noon. It’s late. You should go to bed.”

Keith blinked, processing the words, the gentle suggestion making something ugly curl in his gut. A frown twisted his lips, a flash of anger too fast for him to control.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped, maybe too harshly judging by the shock in Shiro’s eyes.

“Oh, right, sorry, I didn’t mean--”

Keith sighed, completely breaking away from the man’s hold. As much as he hadn’t liked it, Shiro was right, and Keith knew when to admit defeat.

“No, it’s fine. I should go.” 

With that he turned away, ready to walk away with his head high. He only hesitated when Shiro reached out, holding onto one of his hands, light enough so Keith could pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t want to. Instead, he turned around, suspicious.

“It’s the Grand Prix finals, Keith.”

He bristled but didn’t pull away. 

“I know that,” he hissed.

Shiro sighed, brows scrunched as he tried to figure out what to say next. Not even Keith knew what he wanted to hear, but if Shiro said one more even slightly patronizing thing, he was leaving, fancy dinner and hot man be damned. But then Shiro shifted the grip on his hand, casually playing with Keith’s fingers in a way that got his heart racing again.

“You know, I already bought a gift to match your next gold medal,” Shiro murmured lowly, and when he tugged lightly, Keith went willingly.

The gold bracelet on his wrist caught the light, and Keith felt his breath hitch. He was close enough for Shiro to nose at his jaw again, tipping up to speak right into his ear.

“But if you really wanna spend the night with me, I’m sure I can get it exchanged later.”

Keith pulled back at that, and he was on _fire_. Shiro didn’t look nervous anymore, caught between words. No, his lips were pulled into a half-smile, his eyes twinkling with success. As if he’d just figured out what made Keith tick. 

Well, it worked. 

Keith huffed and surged forward to steal one more kiss. Shiro looked surprised when he pulled back, and Keith took a little victory in that. He stepped away, making a show of admiring the bracelet under the lone streetlight. When he looked back up at Shiro, the man was watching him with dark interest. Keith flashed a sharp grin.

“Don’t you dare exchange it. Goodnight Shiro,” he turned to walk away, throwing a last remark over his shoulder, “Make sure to watch me tomorrow.”

He didn’t see Shiro’s face at that, didn’t look back at all, but Keith felt a hot tug in his gut at the man’s confident reply.

“I couldn’t look away if I tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u tell i was listening to cardi b while writing this chapter? yeah.
> 
> keith's dinner date outfit was totally and completely inspired by [this specific fanart](http://ruebird.tumblr.com/post/163999316479/a-soft-keith-because-i-missed-him) that will haunt me until the day i die, it's just that great
> 
> i may not update for a couple weeks because of traveling stuff, but i'll do my best to keep a steady pace~
> 
> thanks for reading! hmu on tumblr @[fratboyshiro](https://fratboyshiro.tumblr.com) or on twitter @[gayhura](https://twitter.com/gayhura)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm sorry

“Wow, will you look at that speed! Really, one of the most powerful triple axels around, courtesy of Keith--.”

“But we can’t ignore that less than stellar lead in. The hothead from America still has a long way to go.”

“Hah, yeah, but really he’s come so far in a short time. He’s got his whole career ahead of him. Oh! Look at that flawless quad salchow!”

“He’s definitely improved, I’ll give him that. All due to his excellent coaching and ringmate, I’m sure. Allura Altea is the biggest name in figure skating right now. The least he could do is keep up with her.”

“Uh, yeah, hah… oh, looks like we’re getting the scores in. A new personal best! I didn’t expect anything less. Really, Keith’s ‘Cherry Bomb’ routine never fails to impress.”

“Well, numbers are numbers, but if we wanna talk performance points, _I_ think--”

Lance’s next less than supportive comment was cut off when the TV blacked out. Keith rolled over on his bed, so his head was hanging over the edge and the world was upside down. Allura stood over him, face drawn in annoyed disapproval as she tapped the remote in her hand.

“I was watching that,” Keith drawled, just to be contrary.

Allura rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you so many times _not_ to watch those shows during competition. You’re only psyching yourself out.”

“It’s not my style to follow directions.”

Keith was lucky Allura only hit him with the remote once. 

“This animosity between you and Lance really needs to stop. As a professional commentator, he _does_ have some impact on your career you know.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. If there’s any bad blood, it’s all on his end.”

Allura hummed, not quite in agreement, but not in disagreement either. 

“Also, at this point, the audience can clearly tell he’s talking out his ass. Even Hunk can’t pretend that Lance has valid points anymore.”

Allura sighed, weary and long-suffering.

“Children, all of you.”

Keith huffed a laugh, but it was a distracted sound. His eyes still stared at the blank TV screen, but his mind was miles away. He vaguely registered the bed dipping with Allura’s weight, as she sat next to him.

She was silent for a while, and Keith knew she was observing him. Their relationship was founded in these quiet moments, in Allura’s ability to draw out from Keith what needed to be said. So when she placed a gentle hand on his chest, and spoke with a deep softness, Keith knew he’d have to talk about it.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Keith rolled over, sitting up, brow furrowed. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t decide what to say. It was hard to put into words. 

Frustrated, Keith frowned and held up his phone. He’d been toying with it all evening. Allura stared at it, obviously confused. Keith huffed and flipped it around.

“You… got a new phone case?” She asked after a moment.

Keith nodded, slowly.

“It’s Gucci. A Gucci phone case, that I mentioned once in passing, at dinner last night.”

Allura’s eyes lit up. “Shiro gave you that?”

Keith nodded, mouth a thin line, face drawn. Allura gave him a soft smile.

“It’s a nice phone case. But I’m guessing that’s not the real thing that’s bothering you?”

Keith bit his lip, mad that he was gonna have to _say_ it. But Allura could match his stubbornness, any day, and Keith didn’t feel like challenging her right now.

“I know you were poking fun at me, with the whole ‘sugar daddy’ thing, but…”

Allura raised a brow. “But?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Keith turned to her with a frown. “I don’t like not knowing what I’m doing.”

Allura sat up straighter, outwardly sympathetic, but Keith could see the glint of delight in her eyes.

“So, you admit he’s a sugar daddy? Are you his sugar baby now?”

He could tell Allura was trying to keep her tone neutral, to act like this wasn’t the most amusing thing to happen in a long time. He tried not to encourage her, keeping up a bored appearance even as he fought a small smile.

Keith shrugged. “I mean, I guess? I’m not sure…” He slumped, all his good mirth gone. “That’s the thing. I’m not _sure_.”

“Okay, explain it to me. From the top.”

Keith sighed, and then did. Allura already knew about how they met. She knew about the gifts and the way he flew to Italy after him. But she didn’t know about the notes. About the teasing messages that got under Keith’s skin like nothing else. 

Allura didn’t know about what happened at dinner last night. She didn’t know about the warm candlelight and the easy conversation and the _connection_ Keith felt to this man he hardly knew. She didn’t know about their kiss, and Keith spared her most of the details on that.

But Allura was smart. More than that, Allura was his _friend_.

Allura knew him, sometimes better than he knew himself.

In every omission, every moment he broke eye contact, he knew that she knew. Keith was in deeper than he thought he’d be. When they’d first met, Keith was banking on a one night stand, and that was it. Sex with no strings was good, he could do that. But it wasn’t like him to have casual flings. It also wasn’t like him to have _serious_ flings. It wasn’t like him to have flings at all but this one… this _one_ … 

He didn’t want to say it, but it scared him. Just a little bit. It was one thing to have never encountered a sugar daddy; Keith was sure _lots_ of people have never done that. But it was a whole different game to have never had a casual relationship. 

His attraction to Shiro was one thing. His connection to Shiro was another.

“Well, Keith… want to know what I think?”

He huffed, eyes screaming _‘duh’._

__

__

“I think… you might be overthinking this.”

“What,” he deadpanned.

“Hear me out,” she held up a finger, expression serious. “I understand the reservations you may have about this.”

“Yeah, like, not knowing what the fuck I’m doing?”

Allura rolled her eyes. “I understand, but I think you need to just… go with the flow, so to speak.”

He gave her a skeptical look.

“ _I think_ that you’re attracted to this man, and he’s attracted to you. Your personalities are well-suited. Under other circumstances, things may have gone differently-”

“Different how?”

Now Allura looked peeved. 

“Could you stop interrupting me?”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t really sorry.

“What I mean is, you met in the middle of the Grand Prix competitions. It put both of you in a difficult position, I’m sure. Crossing borders and oceans, sending gifts of good fortune--”

Keith snorted, “So that’s what we’re calling them?”

Allura snagged a pillow from the bed, smacking him right in the face before he had a chance to react. Allura could be very fast, and very strong when she wanted to be. Keith struggled to breath through the plush cushion, but Allura held her ground, pressing it to his face just enough to be painful but not dangerous.

“I warned you about interrupting.”

“I yield, I yield!”

Allura kept the pillow on him a few more seconds, for good measure, before backing off.

Keith sat up, face red and hair a mess. Or, well, more of a mess than usual. Allura leaned in, all business again, although Keith found it hard to believe her soft smile was genuine.

“Keith, I just think you need to have some fun. It seems like you enjoy this man’s company well enough. So? Go on dates. Let him take you to fancy dinners, and rides on his motorcycle. Accept his gold bracelets and designer accessories. And I _did_ see him that one time, he really is easy on the eyes. Have fun with _that_ too.”

“You’re so embarrassing.”

“This doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. And I know, I know you don’t know what you want yet. But instead of running yourself in circles, just… let it happen naturally.”

“Wow. You should be a motivational speaker.”

Allura hummed. “I’ll consider it after breaking a few more world records.”

 

 

Keith was dragged out of a deep sleep by an incessant buzzing. He didn’t know what time it was, and as he saw the name on his phone screen, he didn’t care. It was Shiro.

 **[Shiro, 5:41am]** _Good morning Keith. Text me when you wake up please? I have a question._

__

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**[Keith, 5:52am]** _morning. im up, what is it?_

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**[Shiro, 5:53am]** _The free skate isn’t until tomorrow night. Do you have plans today?_

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__

Yeah. Keith had planned to stay in bed and torture himself with his thoughts again. He wasn’t sure if he was up for whatever Shiro had planned. But Allura’s voice rang through his mind, _‘have some fun’, ‘let it happen naturally’_ , and he paused. Slowly, he typed his response.

**[Keith, 6:03am]** _no plans, im free_

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**[Shiro, 6:03am]** _All day?_

__

__

**[Keith, 6:04am]** _what, u plan on kidnapping me?_

__

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**[Shiro, 6:06am]** _Maybe. Is that a yes?_

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__

Keith smiled to himself, wary about the way his heart sped up, but liking it anyways. They texted a while longer before Keith dragged himself out of bed to get ready for the day.

Shiro wouldn’t tell him much about where they were going. He _had_ assured Keith that there wouldn’t be a dress code, and it was way too early to squeeze into Allura’s pants again. He just showered and slipped on the nicest pair of black joggers he owned. Paired with his Team USA sweater, he looked the full role of ‘traveling athlete’.

He couldn’t find it in himself to feel self-conscious about it.

Shiro was in the lobby, waiting like he said he’d be. Keith was somewhat relieved to see the man wasn’t dressed up. But did it matter when even just wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, he still looked fresh off the runway? Keith shook the thought away and sauntered up to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted back, extra chipper. Of course Shiro would be a morning person. “You look good. I like when you tie your hair back.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember not to do that again.”

Shiro snorted. “You’re horrible. Let’s go.” 

Keith fell in step with him, grinning all the way. He didn’t want to admit it, but teasing Shiro was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. For as much grief as the man caused him, Keith knew he could dish it back tenfold. After all, Keith was pretty sure Shiro was definitely unintentionally aggravating.

It’s not like Shiro asked to be blessed with a jawline fit for the gods.

Keith shook that thought from his head, refocusing on the present. They were sitting in a small cafe, looking over the ocean of course, ready to have breakfast. It was a quaint place, nothing like the last restaurant they’d been in. More of a hole in the wall than anything else. Keith liked it. He liked it a lot.

The morning went by quickly, over shared musings between sips of coffee. Shiro had a quiet sense of humor, an easy sense of humor… a _cheesy_ sense of humor, and it enamored Keith more than anything. One more pun about eggs and ice skating, and Keith was ready to outright propose to the dude.

That was a dangerous thought that he quickly tucked away.

They left the cafe and strolled through the streets for a bit. Some part of Keith itched for him to reach out and hold Shiro’s hand; instead, he just tucked them into his pockets. But the itch was satisfied when Shiro placed an arm around his shoulder. 

“So, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that outfit you wore last night wasn’t yours.”

Keith snorted. “What tipped you off?”

“Lots of things, but mainly because I saw Allura wearing those pants in Japan last week.”

He laughed, subtly tucking himself closer to Shiro’s side.

“Sue me, I pack to be comfortable, not stylish.”

“You look good either way…” Shiro trailed off, a teasing edge to his voice.

“But?” Keith prodded.

“But… maybe you should have a nice outfit of your own. Just in case.”

Keith looked up at him, skeptical. Shiro just smiled back, the picture of innocence.

“Right. Just in case…”

Before Keith could say anything else, Shiro steered him around another corner, right into a bustling shopping plaza. He let himself get dragged along, barely putting up a fight as Shiro led him into a shop. It had an open sales floor, luxurious with its tall windows and marble flooring. Keith paused by a rack of clothing, finally noticing a familiar logo.

“Is this a Fendi store?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Shiro replied, distracted as he shuffled through some shirts.

Keith huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets again. If anyone asked, he would adamantly refuse the idea that he was pouting. Shiro seemed to somehow sense that Keith was sulking and walked away from the rack. He tugged on Keith’s wrist, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It brought attention to the gold Versace earrings he’d worn today.

After that first date, Keith made sure to wear Shiro’s gifts in his presence. He liked the way the other man looked at him when he did.

“Well, I was thinking… I’ve bought you Versace, Cartier, Gucci. Why not Fendi next?”

Keith rolled his eyes fondly.

“Sure, then you can buy me Balmain, Valentino, maybe even Prada.”

“Yeah? You’d let me?” 

Shiro looked at him with bright eyes, catching Keith off guard with his enthusiasm.

“Uh, well, I don’t--”

Keith was saved when an attendant approached them, all smiles.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. How may I help you today?”

Shiro turned to the man, polite smile back on his face.

“Yes, I’m looking to buy some outfits for my friend here. We’ll need a dressing room.”

The attendant smiled politely enough, but Keith could see the slight judgement in his eyes as he gave Keith a once over. However, the edge disappeared when his eyes landed on the flash of gold.

“Of course sir. I’ll go get one ready. If you need anything at all, my name is Giovanni.”

With a polite tip of the head, the man walked away, presumably to set up a room. Shiro hardly paid him any mind, attention already focused on the racks of clothing once more.

“I’m thinking some jeans, a sweatshirt, a couple slacks, some button ups…”

Keith’s laugh interrupted Shiro’s growing shopping list.

“Shiro, isn’t that a little much?”

“Is it?” The man turned to him, genuine question in his wide eyes.

Keith narrowed his eyes, radiating judgement with every part of his body. Shiro wilted a little under his gaze, but he wasn’t deterred. 

“I… uh, okay. Okay. Let’s start with the jeans,” Shiro offered.

Keith sighed. “No offense, but I actually _do_ own jeans. Quite a few.”

Shiro stepped back from the rack again, giving him a considering look.

“Giovanni, what do you think?”

The attendant from earlier walked over from where he’d been lurking. He was all smiles and genuine looks now, which made Keith even more wary somehow. 

“Please pardon my earlier ignorance. But you are from the American skating team, Keith, correct?”

Keith couldn’t stop the flush from rising to his cheeks. He hated being recognized in public. But he wasn’t exactly being subtle, wearing his team gear and all. He nodded, and Shiro smiled even wider. Giovanni gave him another once over, more analyzing than judgemental, and nodded to himself.

“We have a line of track pants, a fine cotton blend, which also mimic the look of pressed trousers. Style _and_ comfort at its finest.”

Shiro nodded along, turning that bright smile on Keith again.

“The best of both worlds. What do you think Keith?”

He was honestly intrigued. He gave the man a curt nod.

“Alright, sounds good.”

“Excellent,” Giovanni smiled, “now if you don’t mind, let me size you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Keith stood still, arms raised, as the man walked around him with a measuring tape. Keith would’ve offered his own measurements, but he wasn’t sure a Men’s Medium from Target quite translated at a Fendi store.

“Thank you sir. You two may go sit in the dressing area while I collect a few items to start with.”

Shiro gave another thanks and led Keith away with a casual arm around his shoulders. The dressing rooms were in a tucked away corner of the shop, lavish and private. There was one towards the back with the door open; Keith assumed that’s the one he’d be using. A round plush couch waited just outside the room, and so they took a seat while they waited.

Giovanni didn’t take long to return, thankfully. Shiro had been silent as they waited, an unexpected tension forming between them. Keith hadn’t known how to break the heavy atmosphere.

He set up hangars of clothing in the room, motioning for Keith to follow. Shiro waved him away, content to stay seated on the plush couch. Giovanni explained the different selections of pants, as well as some complimentary tops, but Keith wasn’t focused. He couldn’t shake the feeling of Shiro’s eyes on him.

Keith glanced back as Giovanni exited the dressing room, catching Shiro staring. Keith spared him one last look before the door shut with a gentle click.

Alone, Keith sighed and tried to shake the stiffness from his shoulders, his spine. He didn’t know where that sudden tension came from, and he’s not sure he wants to find out. He looked at the clothing hanging delicately on gold hangers and sighed again.

Well, might as well try them on.

He had his jacket and shirt off, hands poised to pull off his pants, when the door clicked open. Keith froze. Before he could turn around, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his core. Keith felt his body go hot, breath stuttering.

“Shiro, what’re you--”

His breathless question cut off as the hold tightened, soft lips tracing the line of his neck. Shiro wasn’t even really doing anything, just holding him, pressing his face into Keith’s shoulder. But the intimacy of it had Keith’s heart racing; he felt ready to shake out of his skin at any sudden move, the tension was so thick.

Then, Shiro shifted, placed an actual kiss to Keith’s throat. It felt like the breath was punched out of him. His hands landed over Shiro’s arms, fingers pressing into flesh and steel, and he couldn’t help but sink into the touch.

“Shiro, what if that guy comes back--”

“Don’t worry. I gave Gio a nice tip and told him to ‘give us some space’.”

Shiro’s warm reply ticked the hair at his nape, and he gave an involuntary shiver. Keith let the words sink in for a moment, let the _situation_ sink in, before making a decision. He shifted forward, pulling away enough for Shiro to loosen his grip, before spinning around with all the grace of a gold medalist.

“Then what’re you waiting for.”

The words barely had time to leave his lips before he reached up, pulling Shiro down into a heated kiss. Those hands were back on him, gripping his hips like the other night. Except this time, there wasn’t a layer of clothing getting in the way. Shiro’s hands were warm, soft yet rough, and they were _big_. Keith couldn’t help but moan into the kiss as Shiro moved his hand, spanning the small of his back and pulling him closer.

As much as Keith loved the feel of Shiro’s soft cotton against his chest, he’d really rather feel something else. He broke the kiss, with a wet sound that made him blush, and yanked at Shiro’s shirt. The message was loud and clear. 

Shiro stepped back with a smirk, just enough to pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside. Keith held him there with one hand on his chest, taking time to look over the newly exposed skin. He had to bite his lip to suppress a moan; Shiro looked just as good as he imagined.

When Shiro stepped forward again, Keith let him, allowed himself to be drawn into another kiss. It was the same as that night, as their first, yet so different. More intense, yet not enough. Never enough. 

Keith let his hands roam everywhere, grabbing at everything. Shoulders, biceps, hair. Keith took particular note of Shiro’s appreciative moan when he tugged the short strands. He didn’t have time to feel smug though, not when Shiro moved to bite at his neck, grabbing his ass at the same time. Keith tipped his head back and barely choked back a whine.

Keith didn’t have shame in being loud, not when he was being made to feel so good. But he _was_ still conscious of the fact that this was a dressing room, in a designer store, where anyone could hear them if they weren’t careful. Just the thought had heat settling heavier in his gut.

Lips moved down his neck to his collarbone, Shiro settling there to suck a hickey that would _barely_ be covered by his clothes. Then he moved down further, to his chest, and Keith gasped when warm breath brushed his nipple. 

Shiro gave the pink bud a teasing lick, just to make him squirm. Keith pulled him in closer, loving the feel of teeth and heat. He was letting out these desperate little sounds, trying so hard to keep quiet.

Everything felt hot. The hands on his ass, Shiro’s lips on his neck. Then Shiro crowded even closer, slipping a thick thigh between his own. Keith let a low groan escape, grinding down to find some relief. He couldn’t remember ever being this desperate. Couldn’t remember ever being this hard.

He hadn’t even noticed Shiro walking him back, so when his knees hit a bench, he startled. Shiro pressed against him, just enough to put him off balance, and Keith sat on the cushioned bench with a huff. 

Shiro stared down at him for a moment, an opportunity Keith used to try and catch his breath. His efforts were in vain, however, because the next second Shiro dropped to his knees, and Keith was left breathless all over again.

Shiro settled between his spread legs, eyes dark as they gazed up at him. Keith watched in a daze as he shifted forward, pressing hot lips to his abdomen, then down to his navel, then down, down… 

“Shiro, wait.”

Shiro paused where he’d been sucking a hickey in the line of his hips, and Keith fought not to chase the touch when he pulled away. He didn’t even know why he stopped him, not really. His head was swimming with desire, the front of his boxers damp with precum.

Keith guessed that the reality of it all sunk in. The fact that he was really waiting to get his dick sucked in the dressing room of a Fendi store.

Shiro shifted again, bringing back in the urgency of their _situation_. He didn’t look particularly impatient, or put off… but his eyes kept darting back towards the door and Keith felt his heart rate pick up again.

“We don’t have much time left baby. You gotta let me know what you want.”

Shiro said it as a warning, but Keith didn’t miss the playful curl of his lips, or the flash of amusement in his eyes. Keith closed his eyes, took the chance to center himself. 

No, he doubted this was what Allura meant by ‘go with the flow.’ Yes, he was going to go through with it. He let out a steadying breath and looked down.

“Okay. Okay, please.”

The smile Shiro responded with was much too innocent for the situation, but it still made heat curl in his gut. He gasped as Shiro surged forward, going back to the hickey low on his hips. Keith moaned as fingers pulled at his waistband, and he lifted his hips to help.

Shiro dragged his pants and boxers down in one go, hot breath hitting his cock. Shiro didn’t waste any time. 

The first touch had Keith crying out, and he quickly covered his mouth to keep quiet. Shiro placed wet kisses up and down his length, a small tease before those lips were wrapped around the head. 

Tears formed in Keith’s eyes as he held himself still and quiet, letting Shiro have his way. The only sound in the room were the wet noises coming from Shiro, the soft huffs of air as he worked down Keith’s cock. Drool was running down his length, dripping down to his balls, making him shiver as it cooled.

It wasn’t romantic. It was rushed and hot and messy. Keith loved every minute of it.

Shiro took him down again, until he bumped the back of his throat, and Keith bit his hand so he wouldn’t scream. Shiro held himself there, breathing harsh through his nose, and then he swallowed. 

Keith’s free hand shot out, fingers tangling in Shiro’s forelock. He tugged at the white streaked hair and Shiro moaned around his length. Keith thrust up into the feeling, so on edge it was driving him crazy. Shiro choked and Keith pulled back, letting the man breathe.

Shiro took a few ragged breaths, staring up at him with wide eyes, and smiled. He ducked down and pressed kisses to Keith’s inner thighs. Keith spread his legs further in response, freeing one ankle from his pants so he could drape it over a muscled shoulder.

“Pull my hair again baby.”

Shiro’s hushed request was the only warning Keith got before he was being swallowed down again. His hand tightened in the locks, and Shiro moaned, the vibrations bringing Keith back to the edge.

Shiro bobbed his head, ran his tongue along the thick vein of his undercock. Pulled back enough to tongue at the slit, cleaning the leaking tip of precum. Keith pressed at Shiro’s back with his leg, urging him back down. He was so close, so fucking close.

Keith gasped when one of Shiro’s hands grabbed at his ass, lifting his hips up as Shiro sank down again. Now that he’d gotten a rhythm, Shiro could deep throat like a champ. Shiro squeezed at his ass again, shifting his hips, and Keith got the message.

Using the leg around Shiro’s shoulder as leverage, he moved his hips, shallowly fucking Shiro’s mouth. Shiro moaned as Keith sped up, bumping the back of his throat with each increasingly rougher thrust. Keith was drowning in the feeling of it, chasing his pleasure frantically.

He fucked Shiro’s throat, reveling in every wet spasm as the man gagged and moaned through it. The hand on his ass drifted inward, the rough pad of a finger pressing against his rim. Keith gasped as the pressure increased, rubbing dry circles over his hole. He cursed as the finger pressed harder, until just the tip was inside. 

That’s what pushed Keith over the edge. His orgasm hit with a sudden intensity, vision going white as he bit his hand to keep quiet.

He didn’t have time to warn Shiro. But the warning wasn’t necessary, since Shiro just latched on, swallowing the warm spurts down his throat. He swallowed and sucked until Keith was spent, over sensitive with pleasure to the point of pain.

Shiro pulled back, licking his lips with a way too satisfied smile. Keith couldn’t do more than slump in the seat, exhausted and boneless as Shiro pulled his sweatpants back up. His eyes trailed down to the bulge in the other man’s jeans.

Keith was just about to sit up, to give back as good as he’d gotten, when there was a knock on the door. Keith startled so badly it made Shiro laugh. The man stood up and pulled his shirt on so casually that, if he weren’t sporting an obvious hard on, Keith would think him totally unaffected.

Shiro opened the dressing room door with a perfectly composed smile. Giovanni was there, with a perfect customer service smile, but Keith could tell he was very intentionally not looking around.

“Were the items to your liking, sirs?”

Keith wrestled his shirt back on, looking over at the untouched items still hanging up. Keith was a horrible liar, so he was more than relieved when Shiro answered for him.

“Yes, they were perfect. We’ll take them all.”

Keith smiled and slipped his sweater back on. He wasn’t even surprised. And when Shiro sent him a warm smile, right after paying a few thousand dollars on clothes he didn’t need, Keith didn’t hesitate to smile back.

While Giovanni bagged their purchase, Shiro leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Next time, I’m gonna make you scream.”

Keith felt heat coil in his gut, and quickly shot back, “You better, big guy.”

The smile Shiro wore was heated, for his eyes only. Keith tucked himself smugly into Shiro’s side, practically preening as they left the store, bag in hand.

Yeah. He just needed to go with the flow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out the [Fendi track pants](https://www.matchesfashion.com/us/products/Fendi-Logo-jacquard-cotton-blend-track-pants-1224067) tho. look at [these](https://www.matchesfashion.com/us/products/Fendi-Side-stripe-cotton-blend-track-pants-1224059) [Fendi](https://www.matchesfashion.com/us/products/Fendi-High-neck-wool-blend-sweater-1224051) [items](https://www.matchesfashion.com/us/products/Fendi-FF-cotton-blend-sweatshirt-1221484) and tell me Keith wouldn't look hot in them. Tell me I dare you.
> 
> anyways yes hello im so sorry this chapter took so long. i was traveling a lot and then i got a new job and then i got stuck with the plot and then i said "fuck it lets just suck dick in a fendi store" bc honestly? that's REALLY what this fic is all about.
> 
> it was my first time writing anything explicit so if u think it's bad just.....dont tell me lmao. ill maybe work on it.
> 
> no promise when the next chapter will be up! my job keeps me rlly fucking busy even on weekends. im gonna ballpark and say....November......bc got some holiday weekends there....but whomst knows, i dont. thanks for sticking with me tho!!


	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t win gold.

It was close. The closest a Grand Prix final score has _ever_ been. But Keith didn’t win gold.

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Of course every skater comes onto the ice, aiming for the top. Of course, not every skater will make it. Keith was blessed to have taken home two gold medals this season. Taking gold at the finals would’ve just been icing on the cake. 

But silver was good. Silver was really, _really_ good. That’s what Allura said, what Coran cried, full of pride, as they hugged.

It stung, to not get gold, but silver was good.

Keith would get over it, no problem. It would just serve to motivate him for the next competition. In fact, Keith wasn’t even too upset about the actual competition. He’d done well, he knew he did. He performed his best, earned a new personal record. There was nothing he regretted, nothing he would’ve done different. 

But up on that podium, down in the kiss and cry, and even now, walking the long hall to his hotel room, there was only one thing on Keith’s mind.

Shiro.

Even the thought of his name had Keith’s gut cramping with anxiety. Then, the presence of that anxiety had him flaring with anger. Why should he be so caught up with the opinion of one guy? Why should he care so much?

He didn’t know the answer. All he knew was his hands were sweating, and he was ready to bolt at any sight of the man. 

He was almost to his room. Keith could see it, all the way at the end of the hall. He just needed to get there, get into bed, and sleep off this weird funk. Maybe avoid Shiro for the rest of his life, who knows.

But of course he couldn’t get off that easy.

Of course, Shiro would already be waiting for him, leaning against the door looking effortlessly handsome, as always.

Keith’s stomach dropped at the sight. He was frozen in place, not wanting to walk forward, but also not wanting to run away like his instincts were itching to. It was a fight or flight response. But he didn’t want to fight or fly. _Fuck_.

It was Shiro who made the first move. Shiro who walked forward, closing the distance between them. Shiro, staring down at him with a soft smile, a warm hand cupping his shoulder.

“You did amazing out there. I’ve never seen you skate like that.”

It was like the air was snatched straight from his lungs. Keith refused to faint, like some cheap novel damsel, but damn if his legs didn’t give out on him, for just a second.

It was enough of a weakness for Shiro to reach out another steadying arm. Enough for his smile to turn to concern. There was a question forming in that handsome mind, Keith knew it, so he beat him to the punch.

“Tired. I’m tired. The adrenaline is wearing off.”

_Nice save._

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__

Shiro nodded, full of understanding. “You should shower. Get comfortable. Come to my room tonight.”

_Goddamnit._

__

__

Keith must’ve not hid his cringe well enough, because Shiro was backing up, concern back in his brow.

“Only if you want, of course. But… I’d really like if you did.”

And Keith could’ve said no. Could have saved himself and just pretended he was too tired. But Shiro looked so concerned, and he was doing this kicked puppy look that may or may not have been intentional, and Keith was _weak._

__

__

“Alright. Where’s your room?”

Shiro lit up like a damn Christmas tree. However, the relief in his eyes was overshadowed by his mischievous smile. He leaned in again, and whispered in Keith’s ear.

“Guess.”

With that, Shiro turned and left, back towards the elevators. Keith made sure he was well out of sight before turning to his door, and promptly banging his head against the wood.

He was a certified, Grade A, _idiot._

__

__

 

 

After debating for an hour whether or not ‘drowned in the shower’ was a noble enough death, Keith gave up the pretense. He pulled on a clean set of sweat, swept his damp hair into a ponytail, and prepared to meet his maker.

That is, if he could figure out which room Shiro was in.

Keith stood in the hallway, bouncing on his feet as he put some thought into it. Shiro couldn’t just be in any random room; he wouldn’t leave Keith completely blindsided like that. So it had to be somewhere not a lot of people went…

A thought clicked and Keith made his way confidently to the elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor and tapped his foot as it slowly climbed its way up. He’d better be right about this.

The top floor of the hotel looked the same as any other hallway. Except, it wasn’t lined with hotel room doors. No, it was a long, doorless hall, but Keith was sure if he kept walking he’d stumble upon it.

The door to the penthouse suite.

Keith stood in front of it now, biting his lip and willing his nerves away. Shiro had to be here, right? There was no other way Keith would be able to _guess_ his room if it wasn’t the most expensive suite.

And then on the other side of the coin, if Shiro was in there… that meant Keith had to talk to him. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever be quite ready to do. But the longer Keith waited outside the door, the angrier he grew; angry at himself, at Shiro, at this dumb situation. Mostly at himself, honestly, for feeling so weird in the first place.

Fueled by nothing more than petulance, Keith raised his fist and banged on the door. It opened quickly, quick enough for him to take a startled step back.

Shiro stood in the doorway, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Keith, come in.”

He pulled the door open wide, allowing room for Keith to slip inside. As Keith walked past, he noticed the nervous twitch of Shiro’s fingers, how his eyes followed him like a ghost. The attention made him feel fractionally better about this.

“What? Didn’t think I’d show up?”

Keith’s attempt at a tease came out too harsh, even to his ears, and he winced. Shiro took it in stride, smiling sheepishly and leading him further inside. Keith followed, arms crossed, on the defense. 

The place was nice, he couldn’t deny that, no matter how sour his mood. There were wide windows, leading to a spacious balcony. All overlooking the ocean, of course. Shiro led him through the foyer (because of course the penthouse would have a foyer) and into a cozy living room. The sight of it made him freeze.

A plush couch. Candles. A bottle of champagne. Windows open, allowing in a gentle sea breeze. A picture perfect celebration set up, one that made his heart race in a most uncomfortable way.

Because Keith hadn’t won anything. Shiro had been planning for him to win, but he didn’t, and now all of this--

“Keith? Hey, Keith, look at me.”

Shiro’s gentle voice snapped him out of his mental spiral. He looked up into soft gray eyes, breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to apologize, or scream, or, god forbid, _cry._

__

__

The constant indecision was driving him crazy. 

“Can we sit down?” Shiro asked, still in that gentle voice. Keith didn’t have the energy to refuse.

They sat on the too-plush couch, the warmth of the candles just making Keith sweat. Shiro wasn’t saying anything, and Keith was grateful. But he also kind of hated it. The ball was in his court now, that much was clear. Shiro was letting him lead.

So, Keith jumped right in.

“You can return the gift.”

Keith’s tone was curt, because he was stupidly _nervous_ , and Shiro paused, looking at him in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

Shiro’s question seemed genuine. And it pissed Keith off, that he had the luxury to _not_ know what he meant.

“The gift,” Keith repeated, visibly frustrated, “The gift you got for my gold medal. I didn’t win. Return it.”

His tone went from clipped to downright petulant. Dare he say, even sulking? No, Keith refused to sulk. So he squared his shoulders, held his chin high, even as Shiro studied him thoughtfully. After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for eternity, Shiro sat back with a smile and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Keith blinked, stunned. “What?”

Shiro smiled wider this time, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I’ll hold onto it. You’ll get it when you win a gold medal.”

“I’ll get it…” Keith furrowed his brow, agitated. “But the competition is over.”

“The Grand Prix is over. But what about Worlds?”

Shiro shrugged, as if it was nothing. As if didn’t just suggest what Keith thought he did.

“You… you want me to win Worlds…” he repeated slowly, just to make sure.

That made Shiro sit up. He leaned forward, a determined edge to him that had Keith at attention.

“No. _You_ want to win Worlds. _I_ want to give you something that’ll match your gold medal when you finally do. Because I know you can.”

Keith was honest to God speechless. In all his anxiety-ridden fantasies, he never imagined this scenario playing out. Never imagined that this was something that could continue. That Shiro was maybe in this for the long haul.

It stirred up that still unsettled anxiety: _‘What am I doing?’_

__

__

But when Shiro smiled and offered him champagne, thinking the conversation was done, Keith didn’t say no. When he moved on and started praising Keith for his final performance, he didn’t stop him. Because it was easy to get swept up in the moment. So easy to forget, when Shiro was right in front of him.

It was the shy glances, the considerate touches. It was in the way Shiro looked at him, _really_ looked at him.

They had a late dinner together, courtesy of room service, and nearly finished the bottle of champagne. Two glasses in had Keith feeling giddy. Three glasses, and he was making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. 

Promises like: “I’ll do it Shiro. I’ll win Worlds for you.” “No Keith, you’ll win Worlds for _you_.” “I’ll win it for us both.”

It was almost 2 am when Shiro finally called it a night. He wrestled Keith up from where they’d been cuddling, watching some movie in Italian. It had been strangely intimate.

And maybe it should’ve been a warning sign, the fact that all they’d done for 6 hours was talk and watch bad movies. But Keith felt warm and at ease, and when Shiro walked him back to his room and left him with a lingering goodnight kiss, the weight of it all didn’t crash down until after.

Until the door was shut and Keith was alone in the darkness of his room. He shucked his clothes off and collapsed in bed, mind swimming with the night’s events. 

Because if they weren’t some sex-fueled, exciting fling like Keith thought… then what were they?

 

 

Whatever else Shiro might be, he was, in this case, right. The Grand Prix was over, but competition season wasn’t. At breakfast two days later, the topic of the morning was preparation for Worlds. Keith and Allura shared a look while Coran prattled on about training schedules. They were in it to win it.

Then, something Coran said had Keith snapping back to attention.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Coran stroked his mustache, not the least bit surprised to have to repeat himself.

“I said, Keith my boy, that before we head back to LA, it would be good to take a few leisure days and relax. The hotel has offered all skater an extended gratis stay, and I think we should take it.”

“I agree! Let’s stay in Italy a while longer,” Allura agreed before Keith could beat her.

Outnumbered, he could only nod and grumble about the extra vacation. Honestly, it would’ve been nice to have a few days to rest. That is, If Keith wasn’t so fucking confused about his love life.

Keith hadn’t been _avoiding_ Shiro per say. But he hadn’t been seeking him out either. The strange mix of feelings in his chest told him a little isolation would be best. Yeah, he was just taking a little alone time. Definitely _not_ avoiding. 

It would be quite a feat to avoid a man staying in the same hotel, after all.

The morning after their night together, Keith had stayed in bed. Because he’d been sick. Maybe a little hungover, but most definitely sick. That’s what he’d told Shiro, when he got a 10am text. That’s what he’d told Allura, when she came by to check on him for lunch. It was what he told Shiro _again_ when he got a call about going to dinner.

And then, a day with hangover sickness, turned into another day with strange sudden food poisoning, which turned into another day of bed rest. Yeah, _okay_ , so Keith had managed to avoid Shiro for going on three days now. The only way to do that was to lock himself in his room and never leave. He was going a bit stir crazy at this point.

So when Allura knocked on his door later that night with the promise of booze and company, he couldn’t get the door open fast enough.

She walked in, staring at him in contemplation.

“Wow, you actually look like shit,” she said, nodding to herself.

“Thanks Allura, nice to see you too,” he rolled his eyes, slamming the door shut.

He knew he looked like roadkill. He’d been hiding away in blanket burrito all day watching foreign documentaries. There were breadcrumbs on his clothes and his hair was wrestled into a weird top pigtail.

Allura tisked at the disheveled bed and instead made herself comfortable on the floor. She handed him a bottle of orange juice as he settled next to her, pouring them each a shot of vodka. How nice of her to bring a chaser this time.

“So, hangover, then food poisoning, and now…?”

Keith winced as the vodka burned down his throat, the orange juice just barely helping.

“Oh, now it’s… now there’s no excuse. I just… haven’t answered him.”

Allura put down her shot glass with a frown. “Keith…”

“Allura.”

Their eyes locked in a silent battle. She was disappointed in him, and he felt a _little_ guilty. Not enough to give in though. Not yet. She relented first, sighing and pouring them another shot. They took it together, letting the juice soothe the rubbing alcohol taste.

“Well, let me see the text.”

Keith huffed, digging his phone from out his mess of a bed. He found their last text conversation and handed it to Allura, not staring at the screen too long. He’d stared at it enough today. He practically had Shiro’s text memorized at this point.

_‘Keith, you don’t need to run me in circles. I know how to take a hint. Just tell me no if you don’t want to see me. I understand. No hard feelings, I promise. Feel better.’_

__

__

“Wow, sent at 4:51am. A man who wakes up that early to text is either lonely or heartbroken,” she nodded solemnly, as if she was imparting some ancient wisdom.

 _“Allura,”_ he hissed, snatching back his phone. His ears were burning from embarrassment and the alcohol.

“What do you want me to say Keith?” She sighed, clearly frustrated.

He shrunk in on himself, tired and angry and sad, sipping his orange juice slowly.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, the overused words burning his tongue.

Allura watched him with careful eyes, no hint of joking in sight. In truth, Keith knew what Allura _could_ say, what he probably needed her to say, even if he didn’t want it. She could get mad at him, tell him to man up and confront his feelings. 

But Keith’s never been good at that, never been good at _feelings_. Push a little, and Keith would push back, reactive. Push too much, and he would run away. Reactive.

He knew he’d have to work on his interpersonal skills someday. He just never thought a sudden affair with a filthy rich man would be the thing to prompt him.

Allura hummed, bringing Keith’s attention back. She seemed to settle on an answer, and Keith held his breath. She poured them both another shot, and he watched her knock it back, no chaser. 

“Let’s go out tonight,” Allura grinned, catching him off guard.

“What?”

She pushed the untouched shot towards him and waited until he drank it to continue.

“Let’s go out. I got an invitation to this nice night club. Get dressed, take some more shots, and let’s go.”

Keith looked down into his empty shot glass, stomach twisting. “Allura, I don’t know…”

A warm hand on his shoulder had him looking back up. Allura’s eyes, usually so sharp and bright, were soft with an emotion he rarely saw from her. She was openly worried, openly caring, just for the moment. She urged him with a soft smile.

“Let’s just have some fun Keith. You’re so stressed about this. You already know what the right answer is, I can tell. But take a night to get your mind off things, and then maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

The thoughtfulness of it all brought a smile to Keith’s lips. He debated the idea, tapping a nervous finger against his shot glass. Allura was right, he _did_ know the right answer.

Keith was scared of commitment. But a 2 week fling wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal. If he sat down and just talked to Shiro, he was sure they could work something out. Put a name to the unknown, so to speak.

If Shiro still wanted to buy him gifts, still wanted to hook up in dressing rooms, knowing Keith didn’t want a _relationship_ , then great. That would be ideal. If Shiro decided he didn’t want something that shallow, decided he didn’t want to keep seeing Keith, then…

Keith held up his glass, motioning for another shot. Allura grinned and poured them to the brim. He barely felt this one go down, settling with the earlier few in a warm haze.

“Alright, let’s go have fun.”

“But first… can we please fix your hair?”

 

 

One hour and countless shots later, Allura and Keith were stumbling out of an uber and up to a booming night club. Allura dragged him to the front of the line, flashing a charming smile at the bouncer who let them in after glancing at their IDs.

Keith was already substantially buzzed from their pregame, but he didn’t say no to getting another cocktail to sip on. The music was loud, so much that Keith couldn’t tell if it was even _good_. But the bass rattled through his blood, making him want to dance.

Allura followed him without a fuss, laughing as he pulled her close in the crowd. Keith had never been much of a dancer, but he obviously wasn’t bad; he couldn’t be a good skater without having some sort of rhythm and coordination.

Club dancing was all just hip grinding anyways. Keith could _definitely_ do that. They danced together for awhile, until Allura got whisked away, and a new body replaced her.

Keith danced with this stranger, a petite girl who was more cute than sexy. But she made up for it with charisma, dealing out confidence in spades. When she leaned up, offering to buy him a drink, Keith readily agreed.

She paid for two more vodka sours, and Keith was crossing well into “drunk” territory. Once their drinks and attempts at small talk were done, she pulled him back onto the dance floor.

She was a good dancer. An even better kisser. Warmth bloomed in his chest, happy to makeout with a stranger in a club. _This_ was what “no strings attached” really meant. Maybe this whole time, he’d just had a lot of pent up sexual tension. Maybe, his weird connection to Shiro was just the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while.

Maybe, this night really was a good idea.

A few drinks later, and the girl was gone. Keith didn’t know where she went, or when she left. He was right on the border of “totally hammered” at this point though.

Another drink was suddenly in his hands and, oh, right, there was the dude he’d been dancing with for a while now. He squinted, vision blurry, trying to recall the guy’s name. Had they even exchanged names? Keith couldn’t remember. He was handsome though, Keith could see that much.

He knocked back the drink in one go, not even tasting it and didn’t protest when there was a new pair of lips on his.

This guy was an alright kisser. Not as good as that girl. Definitely not as good as--

Keith broke the kiss, shocked by the sudden flood of emotions the thought of Shiro brought. Club guy wasn’t discouraged, just moving to kiss down Keith’s neck. He tried to get back into it, to push away those thoughts.

He gripped the dude’s shoulders, leaning into the touch. Hands circled his waist, pulling him closer, and Keith felt warm all over. With the help of vodka, it was easy to let go and imagine this was better than it was. Easy to imagine that the hands were bigger, the back he clung to was broader. His mind flickered between reality and his own daydream for a moment.

But the buzz was killed when those lips met his again. There was just no denying how _off_ it was. Because club guy, he was handsome, but his face didn’t have that interesting scar. He was muscular, but not enough, hair a solid black with no charming streak of white. 

He wasn’t Shiro and Keith couldn’t deny it anymore.

All he could think of were Shiro’s hands, and Shiro’s breath. Shiro’s expensive cologne and the smell of aftershave. Shiro’s smiles and his soft laughter, and the ways his eyes crinkled in the corners, and _fuck--_

__

__

He pushed the man away, deaf to any sounds of protest, and wrestled his way through the crowd. He needed to get out, needed to get far away from this place. He probably needed to find Allura, but his vodka-slowed mind couldn’t make that connection in time.

Instead, Keith found himself on an unfamiliar street, sparsely populated compared to the downtown area he’d been before. Keith stopped by a streetlight, crouching down to center himself. His head was clearing little by little, the cold night air sobering him just a bit.

Okay, so he was lost. But he had his phone, right? Keith patted his pockets, breathing in relief when he found it. He unlocked the screen, staring at it for a long minute. The sensible, responsible, reasonable thing to do was pull up the uber app, get to his room, and forget this night ever even happened.

But Keith wasn’t being sensible. Keith was undeniably still drunk. And that’s how he justified pulling up a familiar contact, and calling a number he would never try otherwise.

His stomach twisted itself in knots while the phone rang. He was vaguely afraid that he was gonna be sick. Then the third ring stopped halfway through. Keith held his breath.

A familiar voice, thick with sleep. “Hello? Keith?”

Keith was filled with a rush of relief, leaving him breathless.

“Shiro.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, a storm of emotions rolling through him. Also, he was dizzy and bordering nausea.

“Keith? Are you okay?” Shiro sounded more awake this time. Not just that, he sounded _worried._

__

__

Keith ignored this man for almost three days. He didn’t deserve that sort of kindness. But god did he love having it anyways.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright,” Keith muttered, then reconsidered. “Actually, no, um, I’m kind of drunk and… lost.”

“You’re… can you remember what happened?”

Shiro’s voice took a sharp edge and Keith laughed humorlessly.

“I’m fine Shiro. I went to a club with Allura. Got too drunk. Walked outside and now I’m lost.”

Keith knew how pathetic he must’ve sounded. His speech was slurred even to his own ears. He’d called Shiro on a slim chance that maybe… maybe he could fix this, before it was broken. But as the silence dragged between them, Keith realized how big of a mistake he’d actually made.

Shiro didn’t deserve that, to be drunkenly called at who knows what hour, by someone who avoided him for days on end. In the end, it wasn’t about Keith not wanting Shiro. It was about Shiro not deserving to get stuck with someone like Keith. The sudden revelation was instantly sobering.

“Look, sorry I called, that was stupid. I’ll just find Allura and--”

“Just sit tight Keith, I’ll be right there.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“ _Keith_. Just… let me do this, okay? I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

He was silent for a long time, before whispering, “Okay.”

With that, Keith ended the call, sitting on the cold pavement. There was nothing to do now but wait and try not to puke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!!! i wrote this chapter like....so much faster than i expected. getting to the climax tho folks! i think we're about halfway through this story? i outlined and im planning on 7 chapters but we'll see how it goes!!
> 
> i cant promise the next chapter will be up as quick as this one. if my time management improves, then maybe. but i neglected quite a few obligations to write this chapter LOL i cant do that again ;-;
> 
> thanks for sticking with me!!! let's see where this goes~


	5. Interlude: Shiro

Shiro watched the sun rise over the ocean, casting the sleepy harbor in a warm glow. Dressed down in a simple fluffy robe and soft sleep trousers, he could feel the nip of the early morning sharply. It did wonders helping him wake up. He sipped leisurely on his cup of coffee, the perfect picture of calm and collected.

Little did the average onlooker know that this was Shiro’s 5th cup of coffee, and he was so stressed that he ceased to feel anything at all.

He brought the cup to his lips, a slight trembled to his fingers, and he found he couldn’t even taste the fine Italian roast anymore.

The reason for Shiro being an anxious, over-caffeinated mess at 6 am? Well, that reason was currently sleeping in his bed, a mess of tangled sheets and tousled black hair. He watched Keith’s sleeping form, so peaceful in his unconscious state. So different than how he’d been a few hours ago, when Shiro picked him up off an empty street.

Keith had actually looked a mess for once in his life. Despite his usual self-deprecating jokes, Keith always looked amazing. Even fresh out of bed, hair pulled back, in nothing but sweats, Keith looked _fantastic_. But last night? Last night had been different.

His face had been absolutely miserable. He’d reeked of alcohol and sweat, eyeliner smudged across his eyes. Hair? A mess. Clothes? All askew. The sympathy Shiro had shown him had been genuine, even as jealousy boiled in his stomach at the sight of fresh hickies and lipstick stains.

They weren’t actually _dating_ or anything. Shiro had no right to feel so possessive. In fact, he was sure that was what scared Keith off in the first place.

Shiro wasn’t very good at concealing his feelings. A week ago, he never thought he’d get this far with Keith. And somewhere between blowing him in a Fendi store and watching cheesy romcoms, he’d done something that crossed a line. Keith, more often than not, was straightforward with his feelings. His face didn’t disguise emotions well, and Shiro appreciated that level of honesty.

When Keith was happy, he smiled. When he was sad, he frowned. When he was angry, he was deadly. There was hardly any pretense, and Shiro loved that about him. Just one of the many things he was growing to love about him.

So, when his eyes widened in shock, swam with confusion, Shiro knew he’d done something wrong. Did he go overboard with the comforting? Should he have not said so much? Maybe it was the setup of an intimate dinner? He could make it casual, keep it casual.

Shiro had tried to salvage the moment, poured them some champagne and hoped the distraction worked. Reclined on the couch, informal, radiating an air of nonchalance. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He’d come on too strong. He’d known it the moment he invited Keith to his room that night, when the slight shock never left Keith’s face. It’d been obvious then that Keith had expected him to break off their strange arrangement, for some reason. Keith didn’t understand that Shiro was way deeper than he had any right to be. But that was his fault too.

Maybe it was time to fess up. Go back to the very beginning.

 

~~~

 

Shiro had managed to hole himself away in his condo for all of three days before Matt came knocking down his door.

“Dude, seriously, you need to get a hobby. This is depressing.”

 _This_ , referring to Shiro hanging upside down on his couch, still in his pajamas at 2 pm with a bowl of cold mac and cheese on his lap.

“I’m on vacation, I can do what I want.”

“Oh? Vacation? That’s what we’re calling this?”

The couch sunk with Matt’s weight, all 154 judgemental pounds. The bowl of macaroni was lifted away and placed carefully on the coffee table.

“You take an indefinite leave from work, hide away in a dark apartment, and call it a vacation.”

“Well when you put it that way…”

Matt sighed, so world-weary that Shiro actually sat up in concern. He was staring blankly into the darkness, worry etched into every crease of his brow. Shiro immediately felt guilt curl in his gut, along with a thread of vindictiveness; he quickly stomped the latter down. Matt was just being a good friend. 

“Hey, Matt, seriously. I’m fine. Just taking time to myself, honestly.”

“Sorry, yeah, I know I shouldn’t hover but…”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted sharply, then sighed. “I’m just… getting burnt out. The firm will be fine without me for a while.”

“Well duh it’ll be fine. It’s got _me.”_

__

__

Shiro laughed, relaxing again. “Exactly. I wouldn’t have taken a break otherwise.”

Shiro had been the mind behind several key parts of some of Rebel Tech’s most successful patents. But lately, he’d been growing weary of the office work, the regular 9 to 5 hours. He had more than enough money coming from royalties and smart investing to retire in luxury, honestly. But Shiro was still relatively young, not even 30 yet.

No, Shiro wouldn’t retire anytime soon. But a year long vacation? He’d like that. Matt didn’t know about the “year long” part, but he’d get over it soon enough. They sat in silence for a while longer, letting the heavy atmosphere dissolve between them.

“What are you even watching?”

Shiro shrugged. He was sure at one point, he’d been watching a movie. But now that he was upright and focused, he could see it was just an endless stream of infomercials. Matt picked up the remote, not even asking before flipping through the channels. He landed on a certain channel and perked up instantly.

“Ooh, my favorite!”

Shiro squinted at the screen before moving to grad his glasses. Was that… 

“Ice skating?”

Matt snorted, playfully offended by his less than impressed tone.

“Dude, not just any ice skating. These are the World championships. I totally forgot they were airing today. I wonder if Allura performed yet…”

Shiro hummed as Matt checked the line up of competitors, smiling when he realized the show had just started. Shiro regarded him with a small smile.

“Didn’t know you were into ice skating.”

Matt shrugged. “It was actually Pidge that got me into it. She totally has a crush on this one skater, Allura Altea. And I gotta say, my lil sis has good taste.”

Shiro sat through the entire women’s short program with Matt, only mildly interested. He could appreciate the art of sport, sure, but no one really grabbed his attention. When Matt pointed her out, Shiro did admit Allura was the best of the bunch. She had a nice power to her moves that the other ladies lacked. He could admire that.

After a short intermission, the show returned, this time airing a rerun of the men’s short program from the day before. Matt wasn’t as interested in this, but there wasn’t anything else on. So, they sat and watched in comfortable silence. That was, until the second group went on the ice for warm ups, and Shiro sat up.

“Who’s that?”

Matt raised his brows, following Shiro’s pointed finger on the screen. He was obviously motioning towards the skater clothed in black and red, all severe angles and unparalleled intensity. Matt scrunched his nose in thought.

“Uh, Keith I think? He’s Allura’s rinkmate. Don’t know much about the men though, sorry.”

Matt might’ve continued speaking, but Shiro wasn’t paying attention anymore. Because even though they were only watching the warm ups, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Keith.

 

 

Several weeks later, Matt walked back into his condo, expression pinched with worry for a whole new reason.

“Okay, I know I said to get a hobby. But this isn’t what I had in mind…”

Shiro didn’t even look up from his laptop, eyes glued to the slow motion breakdown of Keith’s latest award winning performance. Since he first saw Keith skate, Shiro knew he wouldn’t rest easy until he learned everything about the athlete.

Over the past few weeks, he’d watched every performance, every competition there was to watch. He bore witness to the rapid change in skill and style after Keith switched coaches. Watched as that hot intensity transformed itself into something sharply refined, like a fine blade in the forge. 

Through fan forums, he learned things like Keith’s birthday, his personal social media, likes and dislikes, and other basic info he took with a grain of salt. He swore he heard Matt whisper under his breath, “God this is like 1D all over again.”

And, rude this was nothing like Shiro’s short lived boy band craze. This felt… different. More weighted. Maybe it was because he was older? Wiser? Richer?

Either way, the weeks of research and indulgence prompted him towards his next big move.

“I think I wanna travel more,” Shiro announced, turning away from the finished video.

Matt draped himself over the couch. “Uh, okay?”

“Yeah, y’know, I’ve always wanted to travel more. And now I have the time, and more than enough money. So I should do it, right?”

“Right…” His friend answered slowly, bracing for the inevitable. Shiro did his best to ignore him.

“But before, I could never decide where to go. There’s so many places in the world. So I thought, ‘well, why not follow him?’,” Shiro declared with a wave of his hand.

“Follow… him?” 

At Matt’s questioned, he motioned vaguely towards his computer screen. More precisely, motioned towards Keith’s face on his computer screen. Matt sat up fully, confusion giving way to pained exasperation.

“Follow the American ice skating champion. Follow _Keith?”_

__

__

Shiro shrugged. “Yeah, why not? He performs and competes all over the world. I can just go around to wherever he’s at, and start there.”

“Shiro, you _do_ hear yourself when you speak, right?”

Shiro shot him a pointed look, and Matt held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay! Okay. Don’t let me trample on your dreams, lover boy.”

“What? No, Matt, I’m not-- I’m not trying to _meet_ him,” Shiro sputtered, completely flummoxed at the very idea.

He could feel his face going red and the grin Matt sent his way was nothing short of viciously pleased.

“But would it be so bad if you did?” He teased and Shiro punched him in the leg.

Yes, yes it would be bad. Horrible even. Shiro would probably turn into a blushing, stuttering mess and make an absolute fool of himself. No. He could never run into Keith like that. It was a one in a million chance, and not one he was keen on chasing.

After five minutes of the silent treatment, Matt apologized with his big puppy dog eyes. Shiro only forgave him because Matt looked disgusting when he pouted. Either way, Matt sidled up to him, watching him pull up an airline search bar.

“So, where’s your first stop?” He asked, genuinely curious. Shiro smiled to himself, typing in the details for next week.

“Stars on Ice, in Seattle.”

 

 

Shiro sprawled across his bed, a cozy room in a local airbnb. He’d been keeping good on his promise and traveling where the wind would take him, aka, traveling to all the spots Keith had performances. 

But in the interim before competition season began, Keith had been busy training, with no public performances. Shiro took that time to really travel across the last place he’d been, which happened to be Ireland.

It’d been nice, settling and exploring one place for an extended amount of time. He had time to move across the small country, taking extended stays at small airbnbs and bed & breakfasts. He must’ve been there for over a month, and he still hadn’t tired of the lush greenery and stunning coastlines.

Shiro really did enjoy traveling. Even if it was a little lonely at times, he felt good. Better than he’d felt in years, if he was being honest.

But he couldn’t deny the rush of joy he felt when Grand Prix dates and assignments were finally announced to the public. That night, he booked the soonest flights to Marseilles and packed his bags.

If Shiro thought he’d seen Keith skate during performances, that was child’s play compared to the Trophée de France.

Watching Keith perform at a competition was breathtaking. Watching him win gold was even more so. Keith’s first gold medal at a major competition, and Shiro was there to witness it live. He could finally understand what die-hard football fans must feel during the superbowl. Maybe… kind of.

At least, he imagined the strange rush of pride he felt was due to growing attached to an athlete. Their success then felt more personal, more real. Shiro wanted to see Keith win again. More than that, Shiro wanted to see him skate like _that_ again.

The whole flight to Tokyo, he couldn’t get the image of Keith’s quad salchow out of his mind. Keith had never landed that jump in competition before. In that final free skate, Keith hadn’t fallen _at all._

__

__

The way Keith moved across the ice, Shiro had never seen anything like it. That single-minded focus, the intensity, the strength and grace all packed into the most beautiful man on Earth. Shiro wasn’t one to idealize people, not anymore, but how could he _not_ with someone like Keith?

Besides, what would a little admiration from a distance really hurt, anyways?

 

 

He hadn’t planned for any of this. Never, in his wildest dreams, would he have even entertained the _thought_. Yet there he was, driving through Italy on his motorcycle, with none other than Keith clinging tightly to his waist.

Shiro’s honestly surprised he didn’t die during dinner. Having the courage to ask Keith out was one thing; but to actually have a successful first date? That was a whole other story.

He’d looked so good, in Allura’s tight top and bathed in candlelight. Shiro could hardly keep his eyes off him. It was with a flush of pleasure that he noted Keith was in a similar boat. But Keith just thought he was some rich, sauve stranger, whisking him away on dates and buying him fine jewelry. He didn’t know the way Shiro was sweating under his coat, or the way his heart would race whenever Keith smiled at him.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, if Keith wasn’t such an amazing person. If their conversation didn’t flow naturally, or if the didn’t have tons in common. It would’ve been fine if Keith’s shy smiles and quiet demeanor hadn’t completely enamored Shiro. 

Then there was that kiss. _That kiss_. Shiro couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel that way. Like he was coming apart in their hands, all because of a kiss. It was earth shattering, everything Shiro wanted. It was amazing, dizzying. A little concerning even.

Matt always had teased him, about his terrible luck with love. Shiro didn’t fall for people often. But when he did, he fell fast and _hard._

__

__

And Keith? Keith had him falling for a while now.

It was all he could think about, later that night, tucked in bed with fingers pressed to his lips. As if he could still feel Keith’s warmth there if he focused hard enough. He’d probably never be able to forget that searing heat, and he was fine with that.

He didn’t know where he was going with this. Didn’t know what compelled him to buy luxury brands he’d never looked twice at. But seeing Keith wearing his gifts, thinking of Keith draped in finery, it awakened something primal within him.

Yeah, Shiro didn’t know where this was going or what Keith really wanted from him. But he’d followed Keith this far. He was happy to go along with whatever the future held, so long as he could stay by his side.

 

~~~

 

As stunning as Keith was on the ice, it paled in comparison to now. Now, with Keith right in front of him, sprawled across silk sheets, drool peeking from the corner of his mouth.

Nothing could have prepared Shiro for that chance encounter in Tokyo. It was a testament to how flustered he’d been, that Shiro kept sending gifts because he kept forgetting to give Keith his number. 

And following him to Italy? Well, Shiro had already been planning to do that. But changing from his cozy airbnb to the same hotel as Keith had been… _impulsive_ , to say the least. But he was glad for it.

Keith, in every way, was so much more than Shiro could’ve ever imagined.

A groan had him snapping out of his rose-colored daydream. Keith was waking up, which meant two things. One, they were going to have to have a _talk_ about… well, everything. Shiro grimaced at the prospect. And two, it meant he’d get to witness Keith’s bed head, which was a nice consolation prize.

Keith sat up slowly, stretching and wiping the drool from his face. His cheek was a mess of red pillow marks and he squinted against the early morning light. The sight had Shiro’s heart racing. At least, he thought it was the sight. Might’ve been the excessive caffeine, but when the opportunity presented itself, Shiro leaned toward the romantic.

“Shiro?”

Keith’s voice was still slurred from sleep, even raspier than usual. It made Shiro smile, despite the anxiety curling in his gut. He debated reaching out, taking hold of the hand that was outstretched and searching. He decided against it.

“Hey Keith. How’re you feeling?” He asked softly, walking closer to the bed. Keith rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking up at him fully. Then he groaned and plopped back onto the worn pillow.

“Like I got hit with a bus.”

Shiro chuckled, walking over to the nightstand. He opened a water bottle and handed it over to Keith.

“Here, water and advil.”

“Thanks,” he grunted, sitting up to take the offerings.

Shiro watched him drink down the small remedy, contemplating how to proceed. He didn’t want to scare Keith off again, didn’t want to come on too strong. Also, Keith was sorely hungover and probably didn’t feel like listening to Shiro prattle on.

So, instead of initiating their “talk” right away and digging a new grave, he made himself useful.

“How about some breakfast? Food will help settle your stomach.”

Shiro’s offer hung between them, awkward and weighted. Keith watched him with a strangely guarded expression. Shiro got the alarming sense that he’d messed up again, somehow. Keith could probably sense his avoidance, could probably easily pick at all his anxious seams. 

But then Keith sighed and settled back in bed. 

“Is there a McDonald’s in Naples?” He asked, genuinely curious. Shiro’s brows raised in surprise.

“Uh, I don’t know? I can find one for you,” he offered, already pulling out his phone.

Keith hummed, eyes closed. “Just get me like… a shitload of hashbrowns. And let me use your shower?”

“So demanding,” Shiro joked, slightly strained. He stood up, routing a map to the nearest McDonald's, which was thankfully within walking distance.

“Of course you can use the shower. Let me get you some clothes.” 

Shiro walked over to the dresser, picking out something clean, all the while doing a fabulous job of ignoring Keith’s burning stare. He dressed himself in something more presentable than fluffy pajamas and grabbed his wallet.

“Alright, I’ll give you some privacy. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks. And Shiro?”

Keith’s questioning voice had him pausing at the door, so close to making his escape.

“Yeah?” He looked back with a forced smile.

Keith gave him a once over, frowning at whatever it was he saw. He sighed and forced the next words out.

“Later, when you come back… we need to talk.”

Shiro’s mind went blank for a split second, before he remembered himself and gave a quick nod. 

“Yeah. Okay, yeah.”

And so he left, with his heart in his throat, and the barest of hopes tucked in his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally, i couldn't decide whether this fic would be from shiro or keith's pov, so i had this whole dorky shiro plot draft bc i love my gay disaster man. so when i finally decided it would mainly be keith's pov, i promised myself i'd at least include a shiro POV interlude lol. here it is! just a little break before we get into the final swing of things~
> 
> i also realized when i uploaded the previous chapter it kept the september 3 draft date and not the date i actually published it lmao oh well.
> 
> thanks y'all for reading so far!! almost at the end!


	6. Chapter 6

Keith stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting it cleanse him of all his mistakes. The dried sweat, the sticky patches of spilled alcohol, the embarrassing lipstick stains; he scrubbed until they were gone, swirling down the shower drain. He wished he could disappear that easily too.

It was one thing to go on a drunken bender; it was a whole other level of fucked up to call Shiro while in that state.

Keith sighed and let the hot water pound his shoulders. It was a good thing he’d suggested they talk when he was still half-awake, because current Keith was so ready to back down. His gut roiled with regret and nausea. Even after scrubbing himself thrice over, he still just felt _gross._

__

__

But Shiro had seemed so kind, earlier. Shiro, with a new kind of quiet reservation about him, left him with water and painkillers and was currently buying Keith unreasonable amounts of greasy food. Keith slumped against the shower wall, shivering at the cold tiles. He was such an asshole.

It felt absurd that when Shiro came back, Keith planned to ask him to back off. 

Then Keith had the stupid, fleeting thought that if maybe they fucked first, Shiro would be more amenable. That was working on the assumption that Shiro even still wanted him. Also working on the blind hope that Keith wouldn’t be sending him even _more_ mixed signals.

Of course it would send mixed signals. Keith himself was just one giant mixed signal, wasn’t he?

He wanted Shiro near him. In the early light of day with a raging hangover, Keith could admit that. He wanted the company, _Shiro’s_ company. Honestly, the sex would be nice too. But Keith remembered the way Shiro’s eyes would go soft, or the way Shiro would care for him too much… It was overwhelming.

How do you ask someone to care less about you?

Keith shut off the shower with a huff. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his thoughts organized. Maybe he should just wing it? It couldn’t be worse than running himself in circles like this. Keith pat himself dry with a fancy fluffy towel, way nicer than the ones in his own hotel room.

On the counter was some clothes Shiro had given him. Once dry, Keith pulled on the items, watching himself in the fogged up mirror. It was just a t-shirt and drawstring sweats. But they were _Shiro’s_ clothes. Just a little too big, smell just a little too nice. Keith stared at himself in the mirror, bringing the shirt closer to breathe in the scent.

Fuck, it was kind of hot. Like _really_ hot. Keith wondered if he was still a little drunk, because what a bad time for his libido to act up…

The sound of a door closing snapped Keith out of his spiraling thoughts. Shiro was back, and with him came all the anxieties of before. Keith swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked out of the bathroom.

Shiro walked into the living room, McDonald’s bag in arm, looking way too proud of himself. That shouldn’t make Keith’s heart race as much as it did, but, well, could he even really fight it at this point? The fondness in his chest mixed with the still heady feeling of wearing Shiro’s clothes had Keith fighting down an awkward flush as he entered the main room.

Shiro, for his part, was either ignorant to Keith’s troubles, or was purposely turning a blind eye. Either way, Keith was grateful. He sat down on the couch, not too close to Shiro, but not noticeably far either. Shiro didn’t comment on that either, just hummed as he emptied the bag of it’s warm contents.

Along with hashbrowns, Shiro had also brought coffee. Keith greedily clutched at his own hot cardboard cup, watching as Shiro sipped from his with slightly shaking hands. 

They sat in strained silence, Keith gorging himself on an obscene amount of hash browns. He hoped that the grease would kill the fire in his gut, but every time he glanced at Shiro and caught the man watching him with a fond smile, it would ignite once more.

It didn’t help that Shiro was wearing that tight henley again, the top buttons completely undone. In his haste to leave, Shiro probably hadn’t noticed their haphazard state. But Keith noticed. It was the only thing he could notice. The open V of the shirt exposing strong collar bones, dipping down into a defined chest. A chest Keith had seen and touched for himself.

Keith blinked and looked away, shoving another hash brown in his mouth. This was getting ridiculous.

But then he noticed something. Shiro was _nervous_. Barely there, but Keith could spot the slightest details that betrayed anxiety. Subtle. Shiro could be so subtle. It was there, in the way his fingers kept fidgeting, the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes would dart around. Details Keith would totally miss if he wasn’t looking. But he was looking. _God_ was he looking.

He swallowed the greasy potato in his mouth, but it didn’t taste good anymore. It settled heavily in his stomach, and he chased it down with scalding coffee. But even the burn couldn’t get rid of the sour taste.

Shiro was nervous. Because of him. Had he even slept last night? He had dark circles under his eyes, so probably not. Keith had taken the bed after all. Guilt clawed at his gut again.

“So, Shiro, let’s talk.”

“Right. Yeah, okay, let me start by saying I’m sorry.”

Wait. What? Keith, shocked into silence by the out of place apology, could do little else but sit and listen as Shiro continued.

“I haven’t been completely truthful, about a lot of things. Honestly, I didn’t expect things to get this far. But that’s no excuse. 

“We’d been having a good time, but I know I did something that crossed a line. I knew that I would, eventually, just not so soon,” Shiro shook his head with a sad smile that made Keith’s stomach clench.

“Shiro…”

“I meant what I said, before. You can tell me to back off. If I’m coming on too strong, or I cross a line, let me know. This doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. It… it doesn’t have to anything at all, if you don’t want it anymore. That’s fine too.”

Keith just stared at him, blood going cold. The thought of not having anything at all with Shiro made him dizzy. And that would be fine? Shiro would be fine with that?

No, he wouldn’t. Keith breathed through the shock, clearing his head. Shiro was watching him gently, like always, a kind smile on his face. But Keith saw something else there. He saw the sadness, the edge of rejection in those beautiful eyes.

Shiro had said exactly what Keith wanted to say. But hearing it come from Shiro, dejected and shameful, twisted something ugly in Keith. Because hearing the words had him realizing how wrong they were.

What could he say to fix this? What could wipe away the hurt Shiro was trying to bite back? Keith couldn’t take it anymore, frustration and hangover headache clouding his thoughts. 

Then Shiro started talking again. Keith couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. All he heard was the sadness as Shiro spewed whatever apologies he imagined Keith was due. This was so backwards. He couldn’t take it.

Keith clenched his fists to keep them from shaking, and cut him off. “Shut up.”

“What?”

Keith shifted, facing Shiro fully. The man had the audacity to look apologetic and confused. It fueled the flame of frustration even more.

“Just. Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Keith…”

Keith reached out, fisting his hands in Shiro’s collar. For a moment, the man looked scared, like if Keith was about to hit him. But Keith just pulled him forward, meeting him halfway in a stilted kiss. Shiro was frozen against him, hands outstretched awkwardly. Like they wanted to touch, but weren’t sure if it was allowed.

Keith pushed closer, releasing Shiro’s shirt to grab his arms, leading those hands to his waist. That seemed to wake the man up, as he began to respond to the kiss, moving slowly against him.

Shiro took control of the kiss, in that quiet way he was so good at. Keith wondered if he even knew he was doing it. He didn’t care enough to complain. Keith liked the way Shiro kissed him. Feeling it again, Keith realized he’d been starved for it. Shiro tasted like roasted coffee and ketchup and it sent his heart racing.

He placed strong hands on Shiro’s shoulders and pushed back. Shiro let him go, watching with dazed eyes as Keith caught his breath. He sat back, wondering idly how he’d ended up in Shiro’s lap.

Keith watched the man under him, the blush high on his cheeks, the stubble on his usually clean shaven jaw. He didn’t want Shiro to leave him alone. Didn’t want Shiro to believe for one second that he wasn’t wanted. But still… 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered into the air between him.

Though his voice was hushed, his words were solid. Shiro sighed, looking unflinchingly into his eyes with a crooked smile.

“Me neither.”

The confession made warmth bloom in Keith’s chest. He’d felt like he was always one step behind, in this game between them. It left him unsure and unsteady. How grounding it was to see that wasn’t the case, to see that Shiro was just as lost as him.

There was one thing that Keith _did_ know, though.

“But I know I want you, right now.”

“Yeah?” Shiro looked up, smile full of fond hopefulness.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed, relaxing into his seat on Shiro’s lap. Shiro’s hands flexed on his waist, and Keith leaned forward, lips brushing Shiro’s ear teasingly. “Still wanna make me scream, big guy?”

Shiro didn’t answer, not verbally, but Keith didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed with want. He covered the hands on his hips with his own, squeezing reassuringly. Shiro took the hint, gripping hard and dragging him forward in one go.

Keith gasped at the manhandling, but Shiro smothered it with a kiss. Keith melted into it, easily, so easily.

Shiro kissed with a new edge, almost roughly. Teeth dragging across soft lip, making Keith tremble. He opened his mouth eagerly, taking everything Shiro could give him. It turned wetter, hotter, until Keith was rolling his hips down. The feel of Shiro’s hardness against his ass was heady, so he did it again.

Shiro growled, bucking up as he broke the kiss, immediately going for Keith’s neck. Keith tilted his head back, giving him room. Wet lips and teeth scraped his skin. Keith ground his hips again as Shiro bit his neck, hard enough to bruise.

Keith couldn’t help the loud cry that drew from him.

They weren’t in a dressing room anymore. They weren’t even in a hotel room with thin walls and nosy neighbors. They were in a spacious suite that took up half the top floor. Perfect privacy. Perfect place for Shiro to make good on his promise.

Shiro drew back, placing a quick kiss to the bite mark. Keith was panting, squirming with want. The minute Shiro backed off, Keith reached for the hem of his shirt, that cursed Henley, and dragged it off his muscular torso. He reached for the hem of his own shirt, but Shiro stopped him, looking him over considerately.

“Keep it on. It looks good.”

Looked like Keith wasn’t the only one who like seeing him in Shiro’s clothes. Shiro ran hands up Keith’s waist, under the oversized shirt and up to his chest. Shiro went back to nipping at his neck the same moment he flicked a finger over his nipples.

Keith moaned, hands tangling in Shiro’s hair, pulling him tighter. Shiro abandoned his neck, in favor of shoving up the shirt and kissing down Keith’s chest. He could feel the stubble tickling as Shiro worked down. He was wholly unprepared for the feeling of a warm, wet tongue dragging across his nipped.

“Oh fuck.”

Keith keened, arching his back, pushing more of his chest in Shiro’s face. That felt so good. Why did that feel so good? In all his, admittedly limited, experience, no one had ever touched him there. Not like that.

Shiro kissed across his chest, nipped and licked and sucked, dragging sounds from Keith he’d never made before. Keith was painfully hard, turned on beyond belief by the time Shiro backed off.

“Keith,” he breathed and, wow, his voice sounded wrecked, “can I take you to bed?”

“Yes, please.”

Nothing prepared him for the way Shiro slipped hands under his thighs and _lifted him_. His arms wrapped Shiro’s neck on instinct, thighs clamping around his waist as Shiro carried him to bed. That was really, _really_ hot.

Shiro placed him on the bed first, and Keith scooted back quickly. He shimmied out of the sweats, leaving him bare except for the shirt. Shiro watched him strip with wide eyes, but when Keith beckoned him forward, he snapped back into motion. He quickly pulled off his own pants before crawling onto the bed.

Keith leaned back, letting the man settle over him. Keith pulled him in for another kiss, laying back against the soft pillows. Shiro indulged him, pressing him into the sheets, kissing him slowly, sensually. Like he was taking him apart. Keith should be scared of that. But he wasn’t, not this time.

Shiro pulled back, staring down at him with dark eyes. The attention made him both shy yet hotter, a searing heat burning through every part those eyes roamed.

“Keith, are you sure?”

“Shiro, please. Fuck me.”

Keith never thought he’d be one to beg, but the shame that colored his cheeks only made him more desperate. Shiro leaned forward, kissing his breath away. Keith got lost in the kiss, in sucking Shiro’s tongue in his mouth, that the first touch of lubed fingers startled him.

“It’s fine. Just cold. Keep going.”

Shiro nodded, eyes serious and that pressure was back. Warm fingers rubbed and pressed at his entrance, but didn’t push in. The teasing had Keith writhing, panting as he bit back the urge to beg again.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to, because Shiro smiled and pushed in. Keith moaned, gripping Shiro’s shoulders, as the digit sunk in to the knuckle. Keith’s fingered himself before, but it was nothing like this. Shiro’s fingers were wider, longer. One of them felt like two of Keith’s own.

Shiro moved slowly, kissing the harsh breaths from Keith’s mouth as he thrust his single finger. It was nice, but not enough. The hands on Shiro’s shoulder turned desperate, clawing him forward, asking for more.

And Shiro must’ve been desperate too, because he complied before Keith could open his mouth. A second finger slipped in, stretching him wide. He moved in short, shallow thrusts, opening Keith up. Shiro pressed in deeper, wiggling his fingers around, pressing for something.

“O-oh fuck.”

Shiro grinned down at him, smug, and Keith would complain if it didn’t feel so damn good. Shiro rubbed his prostate again, and Keith arched his back, trying to get closer and farther.

“Shiro, Shiro please. Please fuck me already. I’m ready.” 

Keith babbled, losing himself in the fire coursing through him. It was too much. He needed more.

But Shiro just chuckled, sucking a new bruise to his neck. He kissed and nipped at Keith’s ear. “Not yet baby.”

Keith nearly sobbed when Shiro pulled back, but then there were three fingers pushing past his rim, wet with more lube. The fit was tight and Keith choked on a breath when they pushed in past the second knuckle.

He felt so full. Tears sprang to his eyes as Shiro began fucking him in earnest, milking his prostate every few thrusts. Keith reached down, grabbing one of his legs and pulling it up, opening up shamelessly. He wanted Shiro closer, deeper.

Shiro groaned, pushing at his leg with his prosthetic, until it touched Keith’s shoulder. Keith had never been happier for his own flexibility. He whined unhappily when Shiro pulled his fingers out. But the complaint died in his throat as he watched Shiro rip open a condom with his teeth.

Keith squirmed in anticipation, licking his lips as Shiro rolled on the condom and lubed up. A shame, how Keith hadn’t had the chance to suck him off yet. But he wanted this more right now. Needed it like he needed air.

Shiro leaned back over him, paused, then decided to grab Keith’s other leg and push it up as well. Keith blushed, feeling exposed and vulnerable, on display for Shiro’s hungry eyes.

The first touch of Shiro’s cock had him gasping. He rubbed the head against his entrance. Teasing. Still teasing. Keith whined, tears welling in his eyes again. The anticipation was killing him.

“S-shiro… please…”

That seemed to do the trick. Shiro leaned forward, crooked smile, and breathed against his lips, “Good boy.”

Shiro kissed the moan from his lips as he pushed in.

Big. So big. Keith choked when Shiro bottomed out. He stopped there, thank God, letting Keith adjust to the stretch. He breathed through it, forcing himself to relax, even as he felt speared open. 

So that’s why Shiro was so hesitant about sex before a competition. 

“You okay Keith?” Shiro asked after a bit. It took a second, but Keith nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m not gonna break.” Keith swallowed, closing his eyes. “Just… kiss me.”

Shiro did. Keith lost himself in the soft touch of lips. Shiro pulled out, slowly, and thrust back in shallowly. He kept up that pace until Keith couldn’t hold back his moans. Until he couldn’t hold back his cries for more. 

“Please, harder Shiro. I’m not gonna break.”

“I know you won’t.”

Shiro grunted into his neck, adjusting the grip on Keith’s legs. He pushed them higher, Keith literally folded in half, and pulled all the way out before thrusting back in. Keith screamed. The new angle nailed his prostate with each thrust. Shiro railed into him, absolutely no mercy.

Keith couldn’t get enough of it.

He felt a familiar heat boil over, coiling tightly in his gut. It grew with every drag of Shiro’s cock in him. God, he hadn’t even touched himself. There was no way. But the desperate way he clawed at Shiro’s back said otherwise.

“I’m gonna cum… Shiro--”

Shiro moaned, pressing lips to his hair as he thrust harder. “Then do it. Cum for me, baby.”

“Fuck!”

Keith saw white as his orgasm punched through him. Sticky white painted their chests as he spilled over. He clenched around Shiro, still moving inside him, and heard the man cuss. He wanted Shiro to keep going. He wanted him to cum inside. God, he wanted it so bad.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned his name as he came, heat pulsing into the condom. Keith wished he could feel it. Next time, maybe.

He whined as Shiro pulled out, leaving him horribly empty. Shiro padded away, throwing away the condom and returning with a washcloth. Keith hummed happily as Shiro stripped off his soiled shirt and cleaned him, soft and caring. The gentle, chaste kisses were a bonus. They made Keith’s heart flutter dangerously.

Shiro finished up and sat at the edge of bed. Hesitant. Respecting Keith’s space. He smiled and reached out, dragging the man in bed with him. Shiro let out a content sigh, holding Keith to his chest as he settled on his back.

Keith let himself bask in the afterglow for a while. The sun had fully risen by now, shining brightly through the window. It warmed the skin where they touched, even though he knew winter’s chill awaited him outside. Shiro’s breath started evening out, as if he was falling asleep. Keith could fall asleep like this, too. Comfortable, warm.

Of course he couldn’t let the peace last.

He shifted, settling his head on Shiro’s chest more fully. Shifted again, chin digging into the man’s pec so he could look up at him. Shiro roused from drowsiness at that, looking down at him curiously. Keith opened his mouth.

“I don’t… I don’t want a relationship.”

Keith pursed his lips after the confession. It didn’t sting, didn’t feel sour in his mouth. It was a truth; as much of a truth as Keith could muster. Shiro just blinked down at him, processing. Then, he nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

“But…” Keith continued, not satisfied, “I don’t want this to be casual either.”

That got Shiro’s attention. “Oh…?”

Keith shifted, pulling up an arm to play with the sheets over Shiro’s stomach. “I… I need time, but I don’t want you to leave. I like having you around.”

“And I like hanging around,” Shiro answered, quietly.

“Shiro…”

“We can take it slow, Keith. I don’t…” He frowned, blushing, “You know, how I said I was a fan of yours?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, yeah, I might’ve downplayed that. I was a really big fan. I’ve been following you around to watch your competitions and stuff for a couple months now.”

Keith stared up at him, visibly shocked. Shiro’s blush intensified and that earlier nervousness returned.

“Okay, that sounds a lot creepier than I thought. What I mean is, I like traveling, and I like watching you skate. Meeting you, being like this… was never on the agenda. But I can’t say I regret it.” 

Keith absorbed that, considering. “And? Do I live up to your expectations?”

“Even if I _had_ expectations, you surely would’ve surpassed them all.” Shiro smiled down at him fondly.

It was Keith’s turn to be embarrassed. That was too sincere. Keith would hardly believe it otherwise. But Shiro wasn’t done yet.

“Point is, if you want me around, I’ll be there. It’s not a burden to me. You’re the best thing to happen to me in a while.”

They soaked in that calm revelation. Keith’s heart thudded loud in his chest. He already knew the answer, but he took more time than needed to make sure. Then, he pushed himself up, until he was face to face with Shiro. He smiled, pressed the answer between short kisses.

“Okay… okay. Stay with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it's not clear at the end........they're basically just an unnamed ambiguous, yet exclusive relationship. labels just freak keith out tbh lol. will he get over it? who knows. stay tuned to find out.
> 
> sex scenes......stressful........dont look @ me
> 
> next and final chapter will be up.......a couple weeks?? whomst knows. i've been pretty ok with writing steadily so maybe 2-3 weeks. thanks for sticking around~


	7. Chapter 7

Keith, honestly, should’ve counted his blessings. 

To be fair, the topic went untouched for quite a long time. Two days, one 15 hour flight, and a 20 minute car ride to be exact. But finally, when they’d reached the apartments they called “home” in LA, Allura finally said something.

“So… you’ve been in an awfully good mood.”

Keith hummed noncommittally, busying himself with the elevator buttons. But they both lived on the same floor, so there wasn’t much to do on that front. Allura didn’t prod though, which was… suspicious. He found out why when the elevator opened, and Allura grabbed his arm, dragging him down the hall. Away from his studio, and towards hers.

He didn’t fight the hold on his arm. One, because they were long overdue for a talk. And two, because he wasn’t too sure he could actually break free of her.

“Keith… spill. What happened in Italy? You disappeared at the club, were gone the entire next two days, and then show up on time to our flight home with the dopiest smile.” Allura huffed and sat heavily on her couch. “Honestly, the only reason we didn’t alert authorities was because you kept your location turned on.”

Keith sighed and joined her on the couch. “Yeah, thanks for not calling the cops. I would’ve answered if you’d texted me, y’know. I was just… preoccupied.”

“Well, it’s not the first time you’ve wandered off while traveling. Won’t be the last time, I’m sure.”

“You got me there,” Keith chuckled. He settled back into the couch, retreating into his head for a moment. He knew that eventually Allura would ask him about Italy, but he never did quite figure out what to say. Shiro had kept him plenty busy, too busy to imagine this inevitable scenario.

But he couldn’t keep it from her forever.

“Well, at the club, I ended up getting super hammered. And, uh… I kinda ended up calling Shiro to come pick me up?”

Allura’s eyes widened, and Keith held up a hand.

“Before you ask: yes, he did pick me up. No, I don’t remember much else. I passed out almost immediately after that. But I woke up in his hotel room the next day, and we finally had a ‘talk’ about this… relationship.”

“Well?” She prompted, when Keith didn’t continue. He shrugged, though he couldn’t fight back a smile.

“Well, we’re on the same page at least. Neither of us really knew what we were doing. And we’re kinda just keeping things open ended.”

Allura nodded, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “So, you started undefined. Which made you anxious. And you’re still undefined, but it’s fine?”

“Honestly it was more the fear that Shiro had different expectations… ones that I couldn’t meet, and that made me wary,” Keith admitted, smiling bashfully down at his hands.

It had been an embarrassing realization. All this anxiety and worrying, all because he hadn’t wanted to let Shiro down. Shiro, the man he’d hardly known for a few weeks. To find out this expectations didn’t exist, that Shiro simply enjoyed his company, the same way Keith enjoyed Shiro’s… well, it was more than a relief. It was freeing, in a way. 

Allura smiled that all-knowing smile of hers. Keith sighed fondly. She’d always seen right through him, and he couldn’t even be mad. It was a gift of hers, something he’d come to appreciate and respect over the years. 

“Well, I’m glad you finally figured out the root of the issue. It all worked out then I assume?”

“Yeah, it did,” Keith looked up with a smile. “Thanks Allura, for putting up with me this last month.”

She leaned forward, placing a gentle hand over his. “Keith, we’re friends. That’s what friends do.” Allura gave his hand a couple pats before sitting back. 

Keith chuckled, “So, how did the rest of the trip go for you?”

Allura grinned, pulling out her phone. “There was another reason I didn’t try calling you the whole time. I may have sort of met someone too.”

“Maybe Italy is the country of romance,” he murmured sarcastically.

“Oh hush,” Allura laughed, shoving him. “She was at the club that night too. I think we really hit it off, so to speak.”

Keith leaned forward, waiting for Allura to pull up a picture. Allura was pretty picky when it came to people, maybe even pickier than Keith. He was sincerely interested to see the type of person that caught her eye. She turned the phone around, showing a photo of her, arms draped around a shorter girl.

A girl that looked horribly, _horribly_ familiar.

Keith’s blood ran cold and he tried to keep a neutral expression as Allura scrolled through more pictures. Yeah, there was no mistaking. That was the girl from the club. The first one Keith danced with, the one that left him hanging at some point. 

Well, at least he could assure Allura that her new girlfriend was a good kisser.

“Her name is Katie, but she goes by Pidge. She was visiting family in Italy, but she apparently lives in San Francisco. I think I’ll pay her a visit when she’s back in the States.”

Allura was looking at her phone with such a fondness, it made Keith hold his tongue. He could tell her all about it some other day maybe. Maybe during their Wine Drunk Wednesdays or something. For now, he’d leave it be. 

It was easy to slip out of her apartment after that. Allura was feeling the jet lag, same as him, both of them in need of a nap. 

He opened the door to his small studio apartment, all but tossing his bag aside as he beelined for the bed. He face planted on the familiar mattress, sighing contently. There was no greater joy than being back in your own bed after a long trip. 

A weight on his back stirred him from near slumber. Red purred, kneading her paws between his shoulder blades. Keith groaned, rolling over with a smile. Red pushed her face against his, purring and rubbing as he laughed. 

“Good kitty. I missed you too.”

The worst part about competition season was definitely having to leave Red alone. She was an independent cat; she liked to be left alone, kind of like him. But that didn’t mean he liked leaving her for so long. 

His neighbor was very good about coming over and feeding her, but Red didn’t warm up to people easily. Keith scratched behind her ear, making her purr harder. He briefly wondered whether she’d like Shiro or not. 

It was easy to fall asleep after that. Red was warm against his neck, and the mattress soft against his back. Thank god he’d set an alarm beforehand, predicting this exact situation. He woke up a solid three hours later, drowsy and grouchy. 

But Keith rolled out of bed, because he had to. He woke up more in the shower, somewhere between shampooing and scrubbing his back. Red was mewling outside the bathroom door, and Keith let her in with a smile. 

For such an independent cat, she could be awfully clingy. 

Keith took time with his hair, with shaving, with things about his appearance he usually wouldn’t fret over. He flung open his small closet, racking through the sparse clothing within. 

For competitions, he packed light, mainly taking athletic gear and T-shirts with him. His regular wardrobe, in all honesty, wasn’t much different. But like he’d told Shiro, he _did_ own a lot of jeans. 

Keith pulled out his favorite pit of ripped jeans, a nice pair of light faded denim. He paired it with one of his many graphic T-shirts and a well-worn leather jacket. He frowned at the reflection, considering. A sudden revelation had him digging through his suitcase, devious smile on his face.

Before leaving Italy, Shiro had bought him a few more gifts, to say the least. One of which was a delicate, Bulgari necklace. A necklace that went perfectly with his simplistic outfit. Keith latched it on and stood in front of the mirror again.

Sure, maybe he didn’t look fresh off the runway, but he looked _nice_. He also felt more himself than he had in the past month. This was good. This would do. 

Keith made sure Red had food and water before scratching her ear and saying goodbye. He jogged down the stairs, skipping the elevators, hoping the movement would help lessen the pent up energy he had. Still, he felt a familiar restlessness within as he exited the building. 

He walked down the street a bit, pausing by a streetlight. It was January now, so the streets were dark at the early hour of 7pm. Keith didn’t mind, leaning against the streetlight and watching the passing traffic. 

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard it. The familiar rumble of a familiar motorcycle. Keith smiled and perked up. A figure clad in leather stopped in front of him, revving the bike engines obnoxiously. Keith laughed. 

“You look nice,” Shiro smiled, flipping up his helmet visor. “Ready to go?” 

Keith straddled the back of the bike, pulling on his own helmet. He slid in close, pressed to Shiro’s back, arms wound tightly around his waist. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Shiro revved the engine again. “Then let’s go. The city of angels awaits.”

 

 

__

_1 year later_

 

 

“Keith, we’re gonna be late.”

Shiro’s half-assed complaint was whispered, as if the empty hall would overhear him. Keith smiled, clutching his hand and dragging him further along.

“When has that stopped us before?”

Shiro laughed and squeezed Keith’s hand. Keith pulled them forward, looking around to make sure the coast was clear, before stopping in front of a storage room. He pulled open the door and shoved Shiro inside, closing it quickly behind them.

By now, Shiro had guessed what he was up to. The disapproving look sent his way made Keith laugh. He turned and locked the door, raising his brow, challenging. Funny enough, it seemed like Shiro was _actually_ gonna say something. Try and be responsible, maybe. But Shiro’s would-be protest died in his throat once Keith slid to his knees. 

Predictable. 

“Hey, come on. Shouldn’t I be giving _you_ a reward?” Shiro asked, voice strained as Keith got to work on his slacks. He hummed, making quick work of the belt and zipper.

“Maybe later. I’m all sweaty, and this suit is a bitch to take off. But tonight…” He trailed off, pulling down Shiro’s pants and briefs, just enough to free the man’s cock. Shiro sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yeah, tonight, okay--” he cut off when Keith licked a long stripe from base to tip. Shiro sighed. “God _Keith.”_

__

__

Keith answered in the form of a pleased moan, muffled around the head of Shiro’s cock. He’d usually take his time with this, enjoy the act of taking Shiro apart. But the man was right: they _were_ sort of in a rush. So Keith settled for fast and dirty. Something he also enjoyed quite a bit.

Shiro groaned and threw his head back as Keith swallowed half of him down in one go. Keith smiled at the solid thunk of Shiro’s head meeting the wall. Well, smiled as well as he could with a mouthful of dick.

He set a steady pace, bobbing up and down his entire length. Shiro wasn’t a small guy in any respect, and no matter how many times they’ve done this, it still took Keith a while to work up his whole length. But eventually, his jaw relaxed enough and he took Shiro all the way down, the tip sliding down his throat.

God bless the day he discovered his lack of a gag reflex.

Keith breathed through his nose and swallowed around the girth, hollowing his cheeks. Shiro slapped a hand to his mouth, muffling what would’ve been a shout. His other hand came up to rest on Keith’s head, holding him in place.

Keith squirmed unhappily when that hand did nothing more. But Shiro couldn’t thread his fingers and tug like usual. His hair was still done up, and it had to stay that way. If they got too rowdy, he wasn’t confident they could fix the elaborate braidwork.

Keith pulled back, jerking him off slowly as he caught his breath. Shiro stopped muffling himself, reaching down to stroke Keith’s cheek instead. Keith shifted his head, placing a kiss on those fingers, before following with some tongue. Shiro took a sharp breath and Keith smiled.

“Later, big guy.”

He took Shiro’s cock back into his mouth, suckling on the head. He licked up the precum beading at the tip, humming at the taste. Clean, with that familiar musk that was distinctly Shiro. Keith wanted to savor the moment, but they really didn’t have the time.

He relaxed his jaw and took a deep breath. Keith took Shiro down his throat again and set an excruciating pace, spurred on by the desperate sounds Shiro couldn’t quite smother. When Shiro bucked his hips, nearly choking him, Keith moaned.

It didn’t last long after that.

With the help of Shiro’s thrusts and Keith’s enthusiasm, it only took a few more minutes to bring him to completion. Shiro lost himself in the moment, grabbing Keith’s hair to keep him in place. Keith breathed through his nose and worked his throat, swallowing everything Shiro gave him. They couldn’t afford to make a mess right now.

Shiro was still breathing heavy, eyes closed and head propped against the wall as Keith fixed him up. He pulled up the man’s slacks, tucking him in and making sure nothing was amiss. Finished, Keith sat back on his heels and took stock of himself. 

He was hard, almost painfully so, but it was hidden by his sports cup at least. He would live. His hair, however…

“Shit, Keith. I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered, fingers trailing lightly over his head. 

“It’s fine, we can fix it.” Keith was only half lying. He hadn’t seen the damage, so he wasn’t sure if it was beyond repair yet. 

Shiro helped him up and straightened out his outfit. Gave him a chaste kiss, too sweet, too tender for the moment. Or maybe just the right amount of tender. Keith was still getting used to that. 

He let Shiro pull him close, let Shiro hold him for a moment. Keith even hugged back, placing soft kisses on his strong jaw. No need to act coy anymore. But all good things must come to an end. 

Shiro checked his watch and balked. 

“Give me your skates Keith. We need to _run.”_

__

__

Keith made quick work of the laces, pulling off each skate and handing them to Shiro. If it was as late as he thought it was, there was no way they’d make it in time waddling on skating blades. 

Shiro grabbed his hand and they took off down the hall in a sprint. 

They barely made it to the ceremony in time. Keith rushed in first, sitting on the first bench available and started trying to straighten out his hair. 

He’d caught sight of himself in a mirror on the way over. At least two braids had been knocked loose in that storage closet. Shiro knelt before him, slipping on and lacing Keith’s skates.

Allura was up on the podium, shooting a glare colder than the ice rink at him. The silver in her hair matched perfectly the silver around her neck. Keith winced and adjusted another bobby pin. The women’s ceremony was just coming to a close. Men’s would begin in five minutes.

Keith was ready in three.

Shiro gave him a kiss on the cheek and sent him off with a smile. Even after all this time, such tenderness still made Keith blush.

He stepped onto the ice and joined the other men’s skaters in their final bow lap around the rink. The rest of the skaters dispersed, leaving Keith and two others. The three medalists. They went around once more, their victory lap, before converging on the podium in the center. One by one, they climbed up to their spots.

Keith was dead center.

On his right, in second place, was last year’s world champion. Lotor stood with his head held high, silver locks pulled into a devastating high ponytail. On his left, in third place, was a daring newcomer. 

James Griffin, another American skater, had just made his debut this season. Amazing that he could make it onto a podium his first go around. Keith had watched him skate, and there was a lot of potential there. But the teenager still had a lot to learn. 

His style was too rigid, over calculating almost. Where Keith had to learn to tame his passion with artistry, this Griffin kid needed to learn to let loose a bit more. A bit more passion and this kid would be a force to be reckoned with. Keith couldn’t wait to see that.

The ceremony commenced.

Music played and bright lights shone down upon them. Keith couldn’t hear what was ringing through the loudspeakers, the sound so distorted. But he’d been on the outside looking in enough times to make a fair guess. Announcing the names of the winners as the officials walked up to each skater and presented them their medal.

After each acceptance, there was a short pause for the crowd to cheer and the medalist to wave. After a few moments that dragged on forever, it was finally his turn. When Keith lowered his head to accept the medal, something caught his eye. 

The gold band on his finger, sparkling brilliantly in the same pure yellow as his medal. Cartier, the same brand as the first piece of jewelry Shiro had bought him. A simple ring, inlaid with subtle, fine cut diamonds, but they shined stunningly now. 

When he lifted his head and looked towards the crowd, Shiro was there. 

Shiro had been, and always would be there. 

The lights flashed and hit the crowd just right. Just enough that, for a moment, Keith caught the glimmer on Shiro’s hand; a brilliant white gold band that matched his. A matching set of rings. 

Keith couldn’t fight the sappy smile that took over his face. What a cliche end to a cliche story. Keith wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

The crowd cheered and Keith bowed.

He’d won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND IT'S FINISHED
> 
> honestly, yes, i could've definitely dragged this on. i have many ideas of what dates they went on, how they got over their "no labels" status into "engagement" territory, so on and so forth. however! to tell a cohesive story, this was all i had planned~
> 
> did u catch that sly pallura there? everything comes full circle folks....;---)
> 
> it's a happy ending, with some teasing at [engagement rings](https://www.cartier.com/en-us/collections/engagement/gifts/wedding-bands-men/b4083300-love-wedding-band,-diamond-paved.html), and even more [expensive jewelry](https://www.bulgari.com/en-us/products/347578-e.html)... it was a pleasure to search more expensive brands and weep over the prices.
> 
> notice, the poetic cinema: it began with a cartier bracelet, and it ends with cartier rings. true love.
> 
> lemme know what u think!! hope u liked this journey~ if u wanna see more of this, or anything else, consider hitting me up on [tumblr](https://fratboyshiro.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/gayhura)!  
> im...open to suggestions...if you know what i mean ;---)
> 
> lol seriously tho thank you for reading!!! much love and goodnight <3


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